Cost of Living
by Zenith Quasar
Summary: Grimmjow has made a life for himself on the streets of Tokyo. It's dangerous, violent, but he's free of everyone and everything he left behind. When he gets in over his head, however, he finds himself indebted to a very dangerous criminal, Sosuke Aizen. The price? His body. He never thought the cost of living could be so high. YAOI Aizen/Grimmjow.
1. Chapter 1

Rain drenched the alley. A broken eaves trough drained a waterfall of sludge down on the lid of a dumpster, creating a thunderous noise.

But none of the occupants of the alley heard or felt the water. They were far too absorbed with one another.

Steel glinted in the hand of a young man whose forehead wept a red slew down his face. His body was hunched in pain from the hits he'd taken, but his blue eyes remained fierce and wild in the face of almost certain death.

His knife was raised against three guns. His own pistol lay somewhere between the pier where he'd first encountered these men and this alley where their chase had come to an end.

"You're a hell of a fighter, Jaggerjaques." One man drew a long barrel from his coat and screwed it onto the end of his gun. "But you chose the wrong side in this deal. That's the downside of being a merc."

"I prefer the term freelancer." Grimmjow grinned despite the threat. "And they paid better this time, Kajo. But hey, I'll do you a freebie next time, alright, and we pretend this never happened."

"Nice try, but you used our territory to front our competitors' goods. You had to know that was crossing a line."

Grimmjow shrugged. "Would have been a hell of a pay day if I'd been able to pull it off. But come on, is it really worth killing me over?"

"Yes."

Because of the silencer, the shot was barely a zip of sound to be heard in the rain. Grimmjow stood frozen, waiting for the pain to hit, the cold wash of death to grip him.

But nothing happened.

Then he noticed the bloom of red colour staining Kajo's shirt. Two more zips. The other men turned just as white and wide eyed before all three of them collapsed.

"What about this one?" Grimmjow was staring down the barrel of a new gun—the one that had ended the three men. Behind it was a serious faced man, waves of brown hair drenched over his shoulders. A dark suit clung to his lean frame. Grimmjow recognized him. Behind him was another man Grimmjow could not place, and to whom the gunmen had been speaking so he assumed it was his boss but his attention remained fixed on the gun.

"H-hey, you're the one who fuckin paid me to do this job."

"And you're the one who royally fucked it up. Now we have no deal and three bodies to deal with. Or is that four?" He cocked his head over his shoulder. Now Grimmjow did pay attention to the man who stepped over the bodies, never even looking at them. He was tall, his frame strong without being thick. His shoulders were broad, his jawline strong, and his eyes intelligent. He was undoubtedly handsome, but there was something startlingly cold about his features and demeanour.

"Lower the gun, Stark." The gun came down. "So this is him, this _freelancer_ you told me about."

"Yeah. He's supposed to be the best."

"Hey, this is the first fuck-up I've had," Grimmjow defended.

"How unfortunate that it happened on my dime." The man considered him deeply. Grimmjow wasn't sure what he was expecting from him.

"I'll owe you, okay? Next time you need a job done, it's on me," he tried. It didn't take.

"We just saved your life and added the complication of three dead enemies in our known turf war."

"Ah…"

"We'll talk about how you can repay me back in my office."

"Wait, what?"

"Stark, have the boys clear him, then send him my way."

"Yes sir."

The man left the scene. Grimmjow looked to Stark.

"Fuck that, I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't have a choice." Grimmjow took a step back but he already felt the presence behind him. Shit, how had they gotten up on him so quickly? "Check him out and take him to the boss."

"Got it." Hands descended on him. The guy who grabbed him was huge and he wasn't alone. He and the two others wrestled him against the wall and gave him a thorough pat-down before hauling him off to a car.

He sat squashed between the giant of the man and another on the car ride downtown. Grimmjow kept glancing out the window to situate himself. He recognized the hotel and casino at once and his eyes shot wide.

Everyone knew who owned those buildings and who lived in the Penthouse above. Grimmjow should have recognized him but he'd only ever seen pictures in the paper and he barely ever read that.

"Shit. Don't tell me this is where you work?" He glanced frantically from one man to the other as they came to a stop in the hotel's car park.

"Of course. He is the owner after all."

"Then that guy back there was…"

"Sosuke Aizen. Now get the fuck out."

Grimmjow stumbled numb from the vehicle. Stark had done the business with him. He didn't know the details just the job. Fuck. If he'd know it was Aizen he never would have taken the risk. In fact, he'd never have taken the job. No one crossed Aizen and lived to tell about it.

"Get in." Grimmjow was shoved in an elevator. The big man held him the entire time—all the way up countless stories. His heart was pounding by the time they reached the top.

"Sir," The big man called.

"Bring him in, Yammy."

Yammy gave him a shove and he stumbled forward past the front desk that was unoccupied at this time of night. Above them would be Aizen's suite but this was the scene of his central operations. All his legal businesses, like the building itself and the casino, were run here. They were headed for the massive executive office just around the corner. When he was pushed inside, he almost gasped at the view from the two corners of wall-to-ceiling glass that looked down on a light speckled city.

But instead of enjoying the view he was trapped by that cold stare.

"Thank you, Yammy. You may go."

Grimmjow was surprised the other men left. But then, Aizen looked perfectly capable of handling himself. Grimmjow stood still, waiting for the other mob boss to lay it out for him.

"Your mistake was getting cocky." Aizen sat back in his chair and picked up a drink. He swirled it while he spoke. Grimmjow noticed he was in dry clothes. His own were staining the carpet beneath him. "You're young, you're good at what you do, and you've started making pretty good cash. So you thought you could handle bigger fish, but you couldn't and it almost cost you your life." He tilted his drink back and let it wash down his throat. "In fact, if I hadn't ordered it, you would be dead now. If you think of it that way, then your life belongs to me now."

Grimmjow felt every dangerous edge to his words, but he still bristled at this.

"Hey, I don't belong to anyone, no matter who they are or what they've done. I appreciate the save, and I apologize for the screw up, but I ain't taking crap from you."

"No?" Aizen rose now. "I can't imagine you take crap from anyone. But you've strayed into dangerous territory—too dangerous to back out of now. You know those three men? You did know they worked for Katagiri, didn't you?"

Grimmjow's body tensed. If anyone had a name to rival Aizen it was Katagirir.

"No fuckin' way."

"He played it the same as I would, using small timers to set up the deal and you because you have no ties to anyone. The little play you made tonight crossed lines you didn't even know existed. because you're reckless and now there are three bodies and only you to look too. Who do you think Katagiri's going to come after now?"

Grimmjow took a step back and gripped the wall. His knees felt weak. Katagiri would think it was him. He was a dead man—but first, he would be a tortured, beaten man. He didn't want to imagine what the crime boss would do to him before he finally granted him the mercy of death.

"Holy shit…"

"Indeed." Aizen moved around his desk toward Grimmjow. He came within a foot before stopping. "I have the resources to make this go away. It won't be easy or cheap, but I can have Stark make it look like someone else and clear you with Katagiri."

"W-what?"

"But it will cost you."

Grimmjow swallowed. He didn't have any amount of cash that would be of interest to Aizen so he knew the man wanted something else. He dreaded to ask, but his choices were limited.

"What do you want?"

"I want everything you have, Grimmjow. But tonight, I'll start with your body."

Grimmjow's back flattened against the wall but it was as far as he could retreat from Aizen.

"My what?"

"Your body, Grimmjow. I did save it after all, and now I'm going to do it again—that is if you agree to the price. Give yourself over to me, just for an hour. One hour, and I'll clean up your mess and set you free."

"I—"

"You're choices are limited. But if you want to walk out of here and face Katagiri on your own, I won't stop you."

He took a step back, giving Grimmjow some breathing room. His mind was racing almost as fast as his heart. How the fuck had this happened? He'd just gone from the most talented thug for hire to a whore in one night. He was shaking. He locked his knees and clenched his jaw, trying to calm himself.

But he knew Aizen was right. He did only have one choice.

He nodded, barely. Aizen smiled.

"You accept my offer?"

"Y-yes."

"Good." Grimmjow expected him to grab him right away but he returned to his desk and sat back down. Grimmjow remained standing by the wall, not sure what to do.

"Just a few questions first."

"Questions?"

"Like for starters, have you ever been with a man before?"

"No."

"Really? So women, then?"

"Yeah. A few."

"I see. Any relationships?"

"No."

"Any diseases?"

"What? No."

"How old are you, Girmmjow?"

"Twenty."

"Okay then. I'm satisfied. Now why don't you take off those wet clothes?"

Grimmjow shut his eyes. He took a long, calming breath and drew his heavy coat from his shoulders. It fell in a soggy heap. It was a bit of a relief to escape the cold cling of his clothes, but nothing compared to the discomfort of being on display like this.

He managed to get his shirt off and drop that too, but when it came to his pants his hands froze up. He found his fingers clenching over the leather of his belt instead of undoing it.

Aizen sighed and stood. Grimmjow remained rooted as he came over to him.

"Let go."

Grimmjow did, his hands falling to the sides. His breath caught as Aizen pulled his wet jeans down from his hips. Grimmjow stepped out of them. He was shivering now. He told himself it was from the cold even though his body had already been freezing beneath his soaked clothing.

"They did a number on you," AIzen commented, seeing the deepening bruises around Grimmjow's rib cage along with the cut above his eye. "You really were reckless."

Grimmjow said nothing. He was waiting for Aizen to go for his boxers but instead he bent in and his hands slid around Grimmjow's bare back. "Let's wait a moment, before getting to the next part. Let me taste you."

His mouth came down against Grimmjow's. It took a lot for Grimmjow not to recoil from the feeling of another man's lips on his. But he'd have to endure the feel of something much more uncomfortable soon so he let it happen. He didn't really kiss back. He felt kind of numb and more than a little confused about what to do with himself but Aizen's movements held no hesitancy. His hands began to wander over Grimmjow's bare skin, making him shiver even more. He felt a chuckle in Aizen's kiss when he flinched from the hand that found his nipple.

He jolted from an unexpected pinch. Aizen seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his reaction because he continued to fondle his chest until Grimmjow broke away from the kiss. He just needed some air, but he was held tightly in place.

"It must feel a little good…" They both look down as Aizen's hands slipped down over his drying skin. Grimmjow muscles tightened and trembled beneath the touch until his hands were at his hips.

"Aizen." Grimmjow caught his wrist just before his hand slid lower. "I…" He lost his words. He didn't think he could do this. But he knew what fate awaited him if he walked out of here without satisfying Aizen. Slowly he let go of his wrist and watched as Aizen's hand slid past the fabric of his boxers. His other hands slipped behind his head and drew him close again.

Grimmjow was so startled by the touch of another hand on him that he half cried out and opened his mouth to the kiss. He was consumed by Aizen's tongue while his hand began to explore his lower region.

He made a lot of noises he tried to suppress. He twisted and jerked and jolted but he couldn't get away. When Aizen began to rub him and he grew hard, his hands came up to hold the front of the man's suite for support. Aizen ended the kiss when Grimmjow began to lose his breath. He panted as his hips began to rock beyond his control.

"Thata boy." Aizen smiled. Grimmjow didn't appreciate the tone but his body was in too much turmoil for him to react. He wanted Aizen to finish him as much as he wanted him to stop. When a groan escaped him, the other stopped.

"I think we're ready for the next stage." Aizen yanked his boxers down. Grimmjow's erection sprung up. He felt his whole face flush with embarrassment but Aizen looked very pleased. "Excellent." He looked him over calmly then stepped away to his desk. He drew a small tube of a clear substance from a drawer and returned.

"You have an incredible body," Aizen complimented, taking one of his hands. He tugged him forward and pushed his palm against the surface of the desk. Grimmjow understood and slowly took hold of the desk with his other hand. "Good." Aizen moved behind him. Grimmjow stared down on the neatly organized papers and file folders and tried to make his body calm down. He didn't want to think about his throbbing need or what was about to happen.

A cold digit touched him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He bit down on his lower lip to keep from making a noise when it found his entrance.

His breath hissed sharply over his teeth when it pushed in. With the lube it slid easily inside of him. It felt incredibly strange.

"My, you are extremely tight," Aizen half whispered when started to push a second digit in. Now Grimmjow didn't just feel strange, he felt discomfort. When they pushed deeper, he felt blood open up on his bottom lip, and when they began to separate and move he let out a poorly restrained cry.

"It takes some getting used to." Aizen steadied him by holding one hip. Grimmjow felt a sweat breaking out over his body. He was starting to feel very hot, very trapped. His fingers were white where they clenched into the surface of the desk.

"Ah," he gasped when Aizen began to move his fingers in and out. He kept up a steady rhythm despite Grimmjow's discomfort, working his fingers a little deeper each time.

"You aren't relaxing."

Grimmjow wanted to scream at him. How the fuck was he supposed to relax in this situation? But he was also aware that their deal said nothing about how hard Aizen took him. He didn't want to risk pissing the other off.

"ugh…" Grimmjow's eyes squeezed shut when Aizen forced his fingers as deep as they could possibly go. They remained there, twisting and poking. Grimmjow shifted forward but a firm hand on his hip kept him from escaping.

"Hold still."

"W-what for?"

"Just wait." He endure another minute or two before his whole body spasmed unexpectedly when Aizen hit a certain spot. He almost lost his grip on the desk and he heard the small laugh in Aizen.

"Good," he said and pushed against the spot again. Grimmjow cried out this time. The sensation ran all the way to his thick erection. He was starting to feel a different sensation until Aizen pushed in a third finger.

"AH, shit!" Grimmjow's head bent forward and his body tensed up again. Aizen didn't stop though, forcing it inside and pushed deep again until he reached that spot. Grimmjow was torn between pleasure and pain. When he began to thrust all three digits Grimmjow definitely felt deep, intimate pain. But when they hit his prostrate he felt the heat of pleasure.

"I think you're ready." Aizen's voice was thick. He must have gotten aroused. "Stay as you are." He commanded, withdrawing his fingers. He left Grimmjow to catch his breath and he listened to the sounds of Aizen disrobing. He was glad he didn't have to see him. He didn't want to see another naked man—or what coming next.

"Remember to breathe," Aizen instructed when he returned behind Grimmjow. His hips were gripped and pulled back some, forcing Grimmjow's body to arch away from the desk. He could see Aizen's feet lined up behind him.

And then he felt the most excruciating pain of all his life.

He didn't just cry out, he screamed. His lungs emptied of oxygen when Aizen entered him in one brutal thrust. The room wavered, the desk became his lifeline, and at some point he remembered his one instruction and drew breath again.

Aizen wasn't moving. He was just holding their hips together while Grimmjow dealt with the shock.

"I can't do this," he said at once. "It's too much. I c-can't."

"Just give it a moment."

But Grimmjow shook his head. "P-please take it out."

He heard a soft sigh. He knew he must sound pathetic but he couldn't believe how much this hurt, not to mention how filthy this whole situation made him feel to begin with. He shut his eyes, fighting back tears of pain and humiliation.

"What was the hardest thing you ever had to do?"

He opened his eyes at the words. "What?"

"Think about it. Think about the hardest thing you've ever had to do."

Grimmjow didn't want to. He just wanted to pull free of this man, put his clothes back on and run away into the night. But a memory surfaced beyond his control and he saw a kitchen sink full of blood and a man teetering back against it.

"You don't have to tell me what it was," Aizen continued. "Just tell me this: did it hurt?"

"Yes. More than anything in the world."

"And did it seem impossible at the time? Like you couldn't get through it."

He just nodded.

"But you did?"

"Yeah…"

"Of course you did, because you're strong, and you're a survivor. So you can get through this as well."

Grimmjow swallowed. He felt Aizen's fingers tighten over his hips and then he was moving.

It was still agonizing. Even though he stayed at a slow pace, Grimmjow was far too stretched and full. He felt his eyes water until they over flowed. He gasped and tried to jerk away but there was no escape. He buried his head in his arms when Aizen pushed him forward onto the desk.

"Here we go."

It was all the warning he got before Aizen began to take him in earnest.

"AHH, stop!" he begged when he caught his breath after another terrible thrust. Aizen drew out almost all the way but it was only so he could come back in even harder. Grimmjow's knees gave. His scream died in his throat as the terrible pain melded with an explosion of pleasure.

"Fuck," he swore, his heart pounding against the wood surface. Aizen drew out and in again, striking that spot directly again. "AH!" He writhed. Every thrust now came into contact with that bundle of nerves. He stopped concentrating on the painful friction and began to moan for more contact to that spot.

"You like that?" Aizen breathed above him. Grimmjow was beyond speaking. Like it? This was close to the worst moment of his life—but did he want more? Yes. He wanted to cum, badly. He wanted Aizen to give him relief. And he hated that most of all.

"Here we go." Grimmjow didn't think it was possible but Aizen drilled in even deeper and harder. He saw white spots. He screamed again and again and finally the most intense pleasure exploded inside of him—and all down the side of Aizen's desk.

Aizen rocked him a few more times before joining him in climax. He came hard, deep inside of Grimmjow. When he pulled out, Grimmjow felt the sickening sensation of hot fluids dripping out of him.

"Careful, now," Aizen warned when Grimmjow eventually tried to move. He felt hands on his shoulders and Aizen drew him back before lowering him to the floor. "Just take it slow."

He sat against the desk, even though it hurt, and just tried to calm his breathing. He heard a clinking sound above him but didn't clue into what it was until the glass of liquor was offered to him.

His hands were shaking when he tilted it back. Aizen had pulled a robe on—Grimmjow was too hazed to think about the fact he kept one on hand in his office. He knelt down next to Grimmjow and took the glass back before his trembling hands dropped it.

"Are you ready?"

Grimmjow looked up at him. "Ready for what?"

Aizen tilted his wrist, revealing the expensive watch that adorned it. It took Grimmjow's muddled mind a long moment to realize it had only been half an hour and he had agreed to one hour. He'd thought it was over after that but now he read the desire in the man before him and realized how wrong he'd been.

He swallowed.

"Another drink, then?" Aizen backed off for the moment and poured him another. Grimmjow sipped at it this time, hoping to postpone the second round. Aizen seemed patient enough. He took a drink of his own in the meantime, but eventually he reached out and tilted Grimmjow's glass back while he took another drink, prompting him to finish it. He swallowed it all, hoping the burn of it in his veins would help him get through. Aizen set their glasses aside and leaned in.

He held the side of Grimmjow's face while he devoured his mouth. Then he drew back and pulled Grimmjow away from the desk and down onto the carpet. He lay him on his back and placed a kiss on his lips before lowering himself, kissing down his throat, his collar.

Grimmjow caught his breath when his nipple was taken and sucked softly. It felt upsettingly good and he would just as rather not feel stimulated by anything this man did to him. But he was an expert, it seemed, because he swirled his tongue over the bud and Grimmjow's body quivered, his shoulders tightening, pressing him up ever so slightly to gain more contact.

He inwardly cursed the action but it seemed to encourage Aizen because he licked along his chest until he gave the same treatment to his other nipple.

Grimmjow felt ashamed when he began to feel a stiffness growing in him again. Aizen worked his way down his body slowly, tasting every inch of him. He stilled when Aizen's tongue ran along the crease at his hips. He knew he was getting close and the pain would start again.

But to his complete surprise, that tongue continued down along his shaft.

"Ha..ahh…" He was completely breathless now and Aizen licked and kissed and nipped but never gave the satisfaction of truly taking him in his mouth.

He fully succeeded in getting him all the way up however.

"So responsive," Aizen mused. "And so tight. Not to mention fit, young, beautiful." He settled on his knees before Grimmjow, pushing his thighs apart. "You could be the perfect package, young man."

Grimmjow watched him. He couldn't think of how to respond to that but Aizen didn't need a response. He slowly undid his robe and Grimmjow saw him naked for the first time.

He didn't normally consider other men, but now that he was looking at the stunning physique, he was pretty sure Aizen was undeniably attractive. Then his eyes stuck on the part of him that had already been inside of him and he couldn't force his mind to accept it had in fact fit. And now it was about to go in again.

He half sat up in protest but Aizen came down on him, pinning his shoulders. He must have been past his point of restraint now because Grimmjow already felt the pressure at his entrance.

"Wait!" It didn't matter. Aizen was ready so there was no hesitating. He was filled again, and his head flew back, he saw nothing but the ceiling until Aizen reposition himself just above him. Then he was looking directly into the mob king's face as he fucked him into the floor.

He went hard and it lasted long. Grimmjow had hoped to get relief because he'd already been stretched but his insides must have been torn up some because it hurt just as bad until Aizen began to pound his prostrate. He made it last longer this time. He alternated between positions so that not ever hit was a direct one. He made Grimmjow pant and scream. He made him beg him to stop, and beg him to go harder when his untouched erection wept with need. He tried to touch himself but Aizen caught his wrist and pinned it above his head. Then he bent in and captured Grimmjow's lips while he buried himself deep. He stayed deep and delivered rapid thrusts to his prostrate until Grimmjow tightened, screamed and came incredibly hard.

He must have passed out for a few seconds because he didn't remember Aizen pulling out this time. He was already reaching for his robe when Grimmjow opened his eyes again and tried to make the world stay still.

"Even better." Aizen said. "I commend you, Grimmjow. Most newbies wouldn't have handled such force so gracefully."

Grimmjow didn't think there was anything graceful about the way he'd writhed beneath Aizen. But he glanced the clock behind them and saw with relief he had five minutes left. Surely Aizen wouldn't inflict anything more on him. The mob king did seem satisfied and must have read Grimmjow's mind.

"I guess I can let you off five minutes early for being so good."

Grimmjow let out a sigh of relief and pressed his palms in the floor.

He froze about half way up, deep, sharp pain lancing up his back. He stilled where he sat and shifted his legs tentatively.

"Ah…" His breath caught at the pain but he still tried vainly to get his legs to do what he wanted. He grit his teeth in pain.

"Mmm. I suppose it was a little much for your first time." Aizen pulled a kerchief from his desk and bent down. Grimmjow jolted when he ran it along the inside of his leg and then up to his abused hole. He withdrew it and they both saw the blood.

"Fuck." Grimmjow stared at it then looked down himself. He hadn't noticed before but he saw now there was a noticeable stain beneath him.

"You were incredibly tight. I suppose it's too be expected." Aizen bent in and pulled Grimmjow against him. Grimmjow held back but even when he was lifted up he couldn't get his legs to support him and staggering pain made him cry out. He collapsed pathetically against Aizen.

"I-I can't walk," he gapsed out.

"Don't panic." Aizen eased him down on to the leather couch. "It will pass."

"When?"

"Just calm down."

"Calm down? My fuckin' ass is bleeding and my legs don't work! How in the hell am I supposed to—"  
A finger was pressed to his lips. He narrowed his eyes and shoved the hand away. "Just give my damn clothes."

"For what purpose? You just said you can't stand." Aizen withdrew and retrieved their glasses again.

"I don't want to fuckin' sit here naked either," he shouted back over his shoulder. If he'd been looking back, he might have caught sight of the additional clear liquid Aizen poured in his drink.

"I said I want my clothes, not a drink." But Aizen pressed it into his hands.

"Why not both?" He gathered up Grimmjow's clothes but just stood with them in his hands. Grimmjow waited for him to do something but he just waited.

"What?"

"It's going to hurt getting back into them. Drink up, it will take the edge off."

Grimmjow scrowled but threw the drink back. "Okay, now give them to me."

"Certainly." Aizen set his clothes at the end of the couch, out of his reach. Grimmjow tried to glare at him but found his vision blurring. He swept a hand over his face but it did nothing to clear the sudden onset of fatigue and foggy eyes. He looked to his glass.

"You son of a bitch."

The glass dropped onto the carpet and Grimmjow sank against leather.

* * *

Hope you like. I know it's very similar to my other fic and you will see a number of repeating themes, but if you like Aizen/Grimm then this is for you! Please review!

ZQ


	2. Chapter 2

Crisp. Clean. White. Grimmjow didn't recognize a single one of these descriptors as anything to do with his waterfront loft with a view of drug dealers and gang violence.

He saw no immediate threat. The mint on the pillow next to him and the restaurant guide on the night stand were pretty clear signs he was in a hotel room. There was no doubt in his mind what hotel.

"That mother fucker." He groaned and pushed himself up.

He froze. The pain from last night came back to him all too swiftly and he lay back down for a moment to catch his breath.

Everything hurt. Worst of, was of course from what Aizen had done, and he was a little worried he still wouldn't be able to walk when he tried. In addition however, he felt the beating he'd taken before that. They'd kicked him around pretty good before he'd gotten away. Pulling back the sheets revealed dark purple bruises all over his rib cage.

"Shit." He rubbed a hand over his head and paused when he felt the bandage there. In fact, as he shifted around, he felt very clean beneath the sheets—not covered in dried sweat and…other fluids. He whipped the sheets back and now found the will to sit. "That fucker!" he exclaimed. "He fucked around with me after he drugged me."

He began to pat himself over, not sure what he was looking for but disturbed to have been handled while unconscious. As far as he could, tell, he'd only been cleaned and patched up. That was not, however, enough to subdue his anger. He pushed himself to the side of the bed despite the pain and planted his feet on the ground. He saw his clothes had been neatly folded and placed on the dresser. He made that his goal, set his jaw and stood.

Sound made it past his clenched teeth and he needed to stand still for a moment and let the pain settle into a manageable ache. When that happened, he proceeded on unsteady legs to the dresser. He was cursing Aizen with every step. He swore countless times while getting into his clothes—which he noticed by the tag, had been dry cleaned. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed water over his face then tried to tame his bed head. It wasn't much good—he let it be and returned to the main room.

He wanted to make his exit but he eyed the mini fridge. He figured Aizen could at least give him a drink—one not laced with sleeping pills—after the night he'd had.

He swallowed the liquor he found, hissing at the burn on his dry throat. He tried to supress the images of the night before that flooded his mind. He was pretty sure he'd be working on suppressing it for a long time.

"That bastard." He muttered one last time before opening the door and finding the man in question right before him.

"I assume you were talking about me."

Grimmjow blanched but Aizen made no move to stop him. "I see you're on your feet."

"Yeah, no thanks to you. Why the fuck did you drug me?"

"You were getting unruly."

"You coulda just let me go."

"You were in no shape to leave. Besides, it took all night for Stark to cover up for you. You couldn't leave my protection until now."

Grimmjow wished he could yell something back but it actually made sense. However, the man could have just said all of that last night.

"I guessed you would feel more comfortable in the hotel room than on my office couch."

"Ah…yeah, thanks." He really just wanted out of this conversation now but Aizen followed him as he made a very slow, painful trek down the hallway to where he saw elevators.

"I'll have one of my men take you where you want to go."

"No thanks."

"I insist."

"I said—"

"Or, perhaps you should stay here a little longer—until you're feeling better."

"Fine, I'll take a ride."

"Good. Make sure you thank Stark for all his hard work." Aizen swept off down the hall. Grimmjow had expected him to follow him all the way downstairs. He sighed and kept on with his snail's pace, using the wall as support. Stark was waiting for him in the foyer.

"This way." He never said anything about Grimmjow's state. He wondered how many others Stark had had to drive home like this. They pulled up to his place without Grimmjow having to explain where it was.

"Thanks for save," Grimmjow muttered. He wasn't entirely insincere—he did understand how much trouble he caused but he was in no mood to think of Aizen as his savior.

"Just don't do it again. See you soon."

Grimmjow caught the door at this. "Uh, actually, I don't think I want to do any more deals with Aizen."

At this, the slightest smirk crossed Starks lips. "I wasn't talking about street deals."

Grimmjow slammed the door shut. Stark drove off and Grimmjow threw the finger at him as he sped away. Then he trudged up the steps to his apartment that was situated above a restaurant.

The restaurant had been closed down three years ago due to health violations. The owners had fled leaving everything behind, including the apartment above, where they had lived. Grimmjow, fresh in town at that time, had taken over. He sometimes forgot he was a squatter, but that easy, since he'd made a good deal with someone on the hydro commission and got free heat and lights. He was completely off the grid, completely alone, and completely satisfied.

Somehow, he was pretty sure last night had fucked all of that up.

He sank on the couch and struggled out of his boots. He lay back and listened to the fan whir above his head, eyes shut. He needed some time to put that night behind him, starting with sleeping for about a week. The last thing he did before he let himself succumb was reach under the cushion for what was stashed there. Once the revolver was safely in his grip, he felt more at ease. He let his mind drift from his pain and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

It was three months later before he met Aizen again. He was back to normal. He'd buried that night as deep as he could and as soon as his body had been able, he'd gotten back into the thick of things. Since then he'd made some very good deals and a few more connections that were opening doors for him in the underground society in which he lived. It was good to know people—lots of people. The more people he knew, the less he could be associated with one particular group. And it was that neutrality that drew his clients to him and got him jobs.

But eventually one of those jobs put him right back in Aizen's path.

And his bed.

It was a simple task, really. He was hired to get a message to hooker. She in turn would deliver it to a client, he assumed, but that didn't matter. He didn't know, and that was how he and his employers liked it. The only complication was that she worked for a club—a high class one that didn't let just anyone in back with the top class girls.

So he had to settle in for a few hours, at one of the best strip joints around. It was, of course, owned by Katagiri. He didn't see that as a particular risk, however, since most things sleazy and successful were owned by Katagiri.

He installed himself near the stage, bought a lot of drinks, flashed a lot of cash and eventually got the whisper through red painted lips that he was welcome to a private show in back.

Once there, he picked her out from her description, handed over a bundle of cash that his employer had provided, and followed her to a luxurious room full of debaucherous toys and furniture.

"How do you like it, hun?" she whispered seductively in her see-through lingerie.

He was half tempted to take what he paid for but he cleared his throat and explained to her who he was. He gave her the message. He also had a hefty payout for her from the man who'd hired him. When he started to leave, she gripped his wrist to stop him.

"Wait up, hun. If you leave so quick someone might get suspicious. Besides, you're a handsome devil. Why don't we have fun while we wait?"

He looked over her well-proportioned body and tried to see past the countless other hands that had held her and dicks that had penetrated her. He was still weighing his options when the first shots sounded in the hall outside.

"Fuck."

"AHHHH!" He clamped a hand around her mouth and looked around for the safest place. He of course didn't have his weapon—he'd never have been allowed in here.

"Is there a way out of this room?" he asked, withdrawing his hand.

"No."

"Do you think this has anything to do with the person you're passing the message to?"

"No."

"Well we gotta either hide or run."

"Under the bed," she suggested. He looked to the heart shaped mattress. He saw the solid wood panelling beneath it. That was not an option. When he turned back and saw the smoke, the decision was made for him.

"Run it is." He gripped her hand. "Take those shoes off."

She kicked off her stilettos and they prepared to make their break.

It was chaos in the halls. Whoever had done this, had meant to really hurt Katagiri. The entire building must have been burning. It looked like most civilians had cleared out but he could see several hunched figures holding weapons. Continued gunfire sounded somewhere in the thick of smoke. The girl gripped him tighter as they ran through a wall of black. They came out the other side but stumbled right into the middle of a fight.

"Ah!" Someone grabbed them. The girl slipped from him. He heard someone call her a whore and tell her to run then a fist was in his gut. He rolled away from the next strike and in seconds lost the men in the smoke again. He had to hope the girl was going to find her way out on her own. He got tangled up in discarded clothing then finally got back out into the main room. The stage was in flames, the bar an inferno but he saw the exit.

That's when someone clubbed him over the back of the head.

When he woke up, he had a vague memory of a tile floor and heated voices—the face of Stark streaked with soot and several others cocking guns and running. But he wasn't sure that was real, it could have been a dream. He certainly hoped it was a dream when he saw the elaborate footboard, posts and satin sheets on which he now lay.

"Wha…" his voice failed to complete the rest of the word. He felt the scratching hoarseness and the rattle in his chest. In fact, air didn't seem to be getting in very well and the moment and he started to gasp to try to fill his lungs.

That was when he noticed the figure rise from the desk on the other side of the room.

He froze, seeing Aizen, and taking in a few more details of the room. It was elaborate, luxurious and lived-in. It was not a hotel suite. When he looked to his left and saw the massive glass windows and the towering view of the city, he knew where he was.

He was in Aizen's penthouse. And he was in Aizen's bed.

"This should help." He turned back to find Aizen holding a bottle of water out to him. He didn't seem too threatening but Grimmjow eyed the uncapped lid and shook his head.

"I assure you it is only water, this time."

Grimmjow glared but he accepted it. What would be the point of drugging him after he just woke up? As he swallowed it back he looked down on himself and realized he was still filthy, covered in soot and ash from the burning night club. Aizen obviously didn't care it would ruin his sheets.

"You didn't seem to appreciate being cleaned up last time, so I thought I would leave you be."

"Damn straight," he rasped out. He tried downing more water to clear his throat but it was really his lungs that were the issue. It didn't matter, he'd sort it later. Right now he had to get out of here. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. He got half way up before his head swam and he stumbled back down.

"You have a concussion and pretty bad smoke inhalation." Grimmjow held his head, waiting for the nausea to pass. "You're lucky Stark recognized you back there."

At this, Grimmjow raised his head.

"Was that you, then?"

"Of course."

"Shit." He'd nearly been taken out as collateral damage in Aizen's raid on Katagiri.

"You really should rest," Aizen spoke again but Grimmjow shook his head.

"Thanks for not murdering me." This time he succeeded in getting to his feet. "But I'd rather go home."

A hand came up against his chest to stop him.

"I'm afraid you can't leave."

Grimmjow had been worried about that. He glanced back at the bed nervously but Aizen just smiled. "Yes, I wouldn't mind another taste of you, but that's not the reason. We're on lockdown. No one goes in or out of the Penthouse or office until Stark clears up the mess downstairs."

"What mess?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. Katagiri just made a sloppy attempt at retaliation." Now Grimmjow thought maybe he had woken up earlier, it wasn't just a dream. "So you might as well get comfortable because it's going to be a while."

Get comfortable? That wasn't possible, but when Aizen pointed to a door and mentioned shower, he did feel tempted. But he looked back at Aizen with distrust.

"I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want." He didn't wait to see what Grimmjow would say. "I have business." Grimmjow watched him go. He waited a moment, then made his way to where Aizen pointed.

The bathroom was white and bright and just as luxurious as the rest of the place but Grimmjow's eyes didn't linger on the Jacuzzi tub or the lotions and soaps and plush towels—he saw himself in the mirror and understood why he felt like shit.

They must have left him for dead when they knocked him out and in the mean time he'd gotten more smoke in his lungs. His eyes were blood shot and his nostrils black. He let water run into the sink and pulled a folded was cloth from the counter to run over his face. It came away black but his skin remained sooty. He gave up and began to strip for the shower.

He sank against the tile once he was in the shower. The spray of water coursed over him but he was finding it hard to keep steady. His head pounded and his lungs burned. He let his head fall back so the water pressure could reach his face. When he found the strength, he began to scrub himself. His hair was the worst. He was pretty sure he'd have to wash it several more times before all the crap was out of it.

He coughed harshly for several minutes when he was out. He sat back against the side of the tub and gasped. He'd never realized smoke could make you feel this way.

Then he looked for his clothes.

They were gone. In their place was a black, silk robe.

"No fucking way." His voice was barely audible now. But his choices were this or nudity. He looked around as if Aizen might be lurking somewhere in the spacious bathroom but he was alone.

He emerge cautiously, still suspicious of the other man but the bedroom was empty. He did a quick scan for other clothing then headed for the door. It was locked.

"Shit." He was locked inside the bedroom. He gave the door a shake but it was no good. The only other exit was a balcony which was not an option at this height. He sighed and looked back to the bed. It had also been changed so that the filth from his clothing was gone.

No. He wouldn't give in. He turned all around. The room was well furnished including a desk, chairs and a couch. He made his way to the latter instead and sat. His cough returned full force and by the time it ended he was wheezing.

He was glad he was already sitting down when he felt the room start to fade.

* * *

**Thank you Shiva for being my first reviewer! I appreciate it! I'm not sure how much interest there is in this story but I will keep posting since I have written quite a bit already. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

The steady scratch of pen on paper brought him back around. He parted swollen eye lids and took a long while to remember why he was staring at Aizen's back and the desk not far from it where the mob king now sat, sipping tea and writing something down.

His breath came slightly easier when he sat and filled his lungs. Still it stimulated that cough and his chest clenched painfully with many successive convulsions. When he recovered and looked up again, he saw the seat at the desk was empty.

"Here."

He jumped half way off the couch at the sudden voice next to him and the offered glass of water. He sat back, panting a moment before accepting the glass. It did help clear his throat a bit so he could speak a little more audibly, though still very hoarse.

"How long was I out?"

"The better part of a day." Aizen reached behind him and passed Grimmjow a bag. "You clothes were unsalvageable, not to mention covered in evidence. I had your wallet and phone recovered and had my man get you these."

Grimmjow looked in the bag. He indeed saw his phone and wallet but also brand new clothes. He felt a bit relieved, hoping this meant Aizen was ready to let him go.

"So I can go?"

"Yes. Everything is cleared up. I just trust you won't speak of your involvement."

"Of course not." Grimmjow stood. Aizen did too.

"Get dressed, Stark will meet you in the lobby."

Grimmjow didn't even bother arguing about the escort home. He wanted out of here as soon as possible. He locked himself in the bathroom and changed. Aizen was gone when he came back out. He adjusted his shirt—which was a little tighter than he liked to wear—and left the bedroom.

He couldn't help sweep his eyes over the rest of the penthouse on his way out. He saw decadence like he could only have imagined and yet, there was a reserve to it all. Unlike the bedroom, the open room did not looked like it was well lived-in. Aizen was probably too busy to enjoy such things as the pool table, or even the shelves of books and the fireplace. Beyond tall glass windows he saw an infinity pool stretching out to the edge of the building.

He left quickly. He didn't want to be caught gawking or risk Aizen returning. He was escorted by security to the lobby. Stark was waiting for him. Grimmjow watched his eyes travel up and down his body before he nodded to the back door which took them to the car park.

"What?" Grimmjow asked when he was in the passenger seat and Stark turned the ignition.

"He must really like you."

Grimmjow looked down at his clothes. Were they expensive or something? But he caught the look in brown eyes and knew it was something more.

"I mean, you ain't limping this time," Stark clarified.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. "So how does that mean he _likes_ me?"

"Well, it's uncommon for him to show so much restraint. I could tell he went all out on you last time. So he must actually want you to like him back, since he didn't touch you this time."

Grimmjow waited for a laugh but there was none. The mobster was being completely serious. He suddenly felt angry and gripped the door handle.

"Let me out."

"Hey, cool it kid. You're in a good position."

"I don't want to be in any position with Aizen!"

"Haha, touché kid." But he didn't slow down. "Just take it easy. All I'm sayin' is if you did return Aizen's feelings, life could be pretty sweet for you."

"I'm not gay."

Stark shrugged like that had nothing to do with it.

"He's a complicated man. Not a good one, but not a bad one either." They pulled off the highway took the exit toward the waterfront. "Just think about it."

Grimmjow saw his place come into view. "Think about what?"

"What you want to do, next time you see him."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He opened his door before Stark had even come to a full stop. "Thanks for the ride." He hurried up the stairs to his apartment.

He swore when he saw the kicked in door and the mess beyond.

"FUCK!" He waded through the disaster of his home. Everything was on the floor. Clothes had been torn from his closet, blankets from the bed, books and dishes and even the contents of his fridge. Stuffing from the couch was also mixed into the mess.

"What the hell were they looking for?" He didn't possess anything of particular worth. He looked for clues as to who had done this but decided his best bet was to leave the scene before whoever it was came back. He checked for his gun but it was of course missing. He slid open a window and dropped down onto the roof that extended out the back of the restaurant. He had just shut the window again when he heard the door bang open.

He waited, listening. Whoever had done this had been waiting for him. He had nowhere to run since they'd likely had a car parked nearby, but they might not think to look for him here. He listened through the glass above and picked out pieces of information.

It was the same men who'd hired him for the job in the club. What the fuck was their problem? He'd done his job. Aizen's attack had nothing to do with him.

"That bastard," they swore when they figured out he was gone. "Where the fuck did he go?"

No sooner than they'd asked the question did someone's foot go through the window above Grimmjow's head.

"Shit." He bolted. He ran across the roof and vaulted over the side. He landed on trash bins—this had always been his exit strategy had he needed one. He slid easily to the ground and began to run.

If it hadn't been for the residual smoke in his lungs, he would have been in the clear. But because of a violent bout of coughing, they caught up to him on Water Street, their car screeching to a halt and several men jumping out with guns on him. He came to a gasping stop and was forced onto the ground. He waited for the beating but nothing happened just yet.

"He's clean." Someone said after patting him down. They backed off but the guns were still on him.

"What the Hell do you want?" Grimmjow did his best to bark at them past the rasp in his throat. "I delivered your fuckin' message. And I barely got out of that place alive, I might add."

He was backhanded for the way he spoke. The man in charge was the man who'd hired him.

"The girl."

"Yes, I gave the message to the girl."

"No. Where is she?"

"How the fuck should I know?" His head snapped back at the direct punch. He clutched his nose when he felt the outpouring of blood.

"She was more important than just a messenger. Tell us where she is."

She must have been someone's preferred fuck or else a family member. Grimmjow cursed his luck but had nothing but the truth for the men.

"I don't know. We got separated in the fire. She ran. So did I."

"Not good enough."

"I don't know!" he insisted when the gun came in line with his head. "I took a few hits, there was smoke everywhere!"

"Did Aizen do her in? Or did he take her?"

"I don't know."

Another hit. He coughed blood. "You were just fucking dropped off by his man. You were a plant of his, weren't you?"

Grimmjow groaned. Now he was associated with Aizen. This was bad on several levels.

"No I'm not. I did business with him once. He decided to spare me in the fire. I'm lucky to be breathing."

"Too right you are. That bastard must have a hard on for you. So you go back to him, and you find out where the girl is."

"I'm not going back to that bastard."

He saw stars this time.

"You find out, or next time we see you, we fucking end you."

He didn't see them leave. He was too busy waiting for the world to still. He really couldn't handle any more abuse to his brain so soon after a concussion. The only further information he heard was a hissed, _three days._

He assumed that was his deadline for finding the mysterious girl. When he collected himself he stood and returned to his apartment.

"Fuck," he groaned, returning to the mess and attempting to straighten the door enough that it would lock. "I am not going back to that guy," he grumbled, bending to pick up one of his shirts from the floor. He had a long night of cleaning ahead. And after that, he'd have to decide just how he he'd find out about the girl without talking to Aizen.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I do love feedback so if you have the time, please review. Thanks so much to those who already have, it's encouraging!

~ZQ


	4. Chapter 4

In two days, he gave up. He'd scoured ever resource he knew on the streets and online. He checked his watch and saw that he was down to twenty hours.

He scrubbed his face, changed his clothes, and walked to Aizen's building.

Stark half smiled when he greeted him.

"Don't," Grimmjow warned. "This is business, that's all."

"I'll send you straight up then."

"No." He nodded to a corner away from the main crowd in the lobby. Stark followed him.

"What's up?"

"I need to know what happened to the girl I was with that night."

"One of the show girls?"

"Yeah. I mean did you kill them? Did you let them go?"

Starks eyes shifted back to the elevators. Grimmjow knew what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth.

"The boss will have to discuss it with you,"

"No, I don't want to talk to him," Grimmjow insisted. "Can't you tell me?"

"Sorry kid, I'll send you up."

He scowled the whole way from lobby to penthouse. He stood in the open elevator for a long time before he managed to make himself cross the threshold onto the landing. He let security pat him down, take his phone and his wallet and escort him to the door. He was ticked when he saw plainly that Aizen had been waiting for him. Stark must have called ahead.

"Back so soon?"

"It's not like that," Grimmjow growled. "I uh…" fuck, how could he say this without sounding pathetic? "I need to know something."

"You need my help," Aizen corrected at once.

Grimmjow sighed. "Yeah."

"Well come inside then."

Grimmjow stepped in but didn't budge from the door. He knew it was pointless, but it at least made him feel like he still had a way out. Aizen didn't remark on it. Instead he stepped back and gave Grimmjow a once over, eyeing the bruising on his face.

"Who is it?"

"No one big."

"You're in trouble?"

"They want to know where that girl is—the one I went to see the other night before you smoked us out. All I need to know is where she is. Then I'm gone."

Aizen considered him. "Interesting."

Grimmjow didn't find anything about it interesting. He scowled deeper and just said, "So is she dead? I mean, did you off her?"

"Certainly not."

"Then did you take her?"

"Grimmjow?"

"Yes?"

"If you're looking for such information, I should warn you, there is a price"

Grimmjow squeezed his eyes shut. "What price?"

"I think you know."

"Fuck you." Grimmjow turned but the steel voice caught him.

"I was too rough last time, I'll admit. For information on the girl, all I'll ask is for you to suck my cock."

Grimmjow went rigid but he didn't speak. He knew there was more so he listened.

"For me to get rid of the assholes who did that to your face—well, I think you know the price for that."

"Too right I do. I ain't whoring myself out. Later."

"Grimmjow."

"What?"

"We didn't kill her. But we didn't take her either."

At this, the delinquent turned back. "Then where is she?"

"I have no idea, but I have the resources that can find out."

"You can search for her?"

"Of course—if you pay me, that is."

Grimmjow shook his head. "You're a dick."

Aizen didn't take offense, he just waited. Grimmjow was clearly weighing his options, but his eyes ended up traveling down Aizen's body to the organ in question. He shook himself, remembering the sight and feel of it last time.

"No deal." He opened the door behind him.

"Well the offer stands, if you have no luck on your own."

Grimmjow slammed the door shut at his back but didn't move further. He himself didn't have the resources he needed to do this. And if the people who actually knew the girl couldn't find her themselves, then he really had no chance. On the other hand, what could Aizen find in 20 hours? He would likely have to face off with these assholes no matter what so he'd save what was left of his pride and prepare for the fight that awaited him.

He hesitated another moment but his mind was made up. He left the building again, sure Aizen watched him the whole way.

He returned to his place. Fuck those assholes who'd attacked him. He hadn't done anything wrong—he'd held up his end of the deal. He should be done with them. In fact, he had every right to get back at them for messing up his place and his face. Since he wasn't reneging on a deal, him hurting them back should have no negative impact on his street credit. If anything it would let others know not to mess with him.

So instead of researching the girl, he turned his attention to preparing for his next meeting with the people who'd hired him. When they came for him, he'd be ready.

* * *

It was four in the afternoon when they came. They busted his door—again. He cursed but held his ground as they came in, guns already drawn. It was the same three from last time.

"Where is she?"

"Well she ain't here."

"Don't fuck around."

"Fine. I don't know where she is. None of this has anything to do with me. You hired me to give her a message, I did. I ain't a detective."

"You were supposed to get the information out of Aizen."

"He doesn't have her. I asked."

"The fuck he doesn't." They took a step.

Grimmjow raised a hand. "I wouldn't."

The men stopped, looking the floor boards over, then the ceiling. They saw nothing, save the smile on Grimmjow's face.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just wouldn't."

"We can still shoot you, asshole."

"I wouldn't do that either."

"What the fuck?"

"The spark," Grimmjow explained. "It would set off the gas."

"What gas?"

"The gas I turned on downstairs just before you got here. You did notice this was a restaurant, right? And see how shitty the floorboards are? Easy for that gas to get up here."

"You idiot. You'd blow up your own place?"

"Well, it won't blow up unless you want to die."

"GAH!" They were enraged, but none of them seemed willing to fire.

This was what Grimmjow had found out when asking around about these three as he prepared for them. They were fucking idiots.

"Then we'll fuckin' beat it out of you."

"I'm telling you, I don't know anything about the girl. But if you're set on a fight, I'll give you one."

They'd caught him off guard last time. This time, he'd show them how he'd survived the streets since he was fourteen years old.

"Get him."

Two came at him. One went down within seconds. Grimmjow was fast, flexible and fearless. He kicked the coffee table straight into their legs and swung as they fell. One tumbled and rolled to the floor on Grimmjow's left. He smoked him in the side of his boot with his foot. He was out.

The next grabbed his arm and twisted. Grimmjow rolled with the move and caught the man in the chin with his elbow. His head snapped back and Grimmjow wrestled out of his grip, throwing a foot back into the man's knee cap. He hollered and collapsed.

By now the last had pulled out a lengthy knife and made his move. He cut though Grimmjow's jacket but didn't hit flesh. Grimmjow spun away to give himself a second to calculate. It took him no time to see his out. The man was panicked and held his blade out defensively. Grimmjow waited. The man waited. Then he lunged.

It was simple, really. The moment he extended his hand, Grimmjow kicked straight up into his fist. Hand and knife flew back and the man hollered in pain, probably still trying to figure out what happened when he clutched his torn ear. The blade had cut clean through the top of it. He wouldn't recover that. It could have been worse though, it could have been his eye.

Grimmjow picked up the fallen knife, then proceeded to retrieve their guns. When he had them all, he cocked one and pointed at the bleeding man.

"You can't shoot."

"Of course I fucking can. I'm not an idiot. There isn't really gas in here."

"You bastard."

"Careful, it's this bastard who gets to decide if you live or die."

Now this was the part Grimmjow hadn't yet decided on. He'd been confident he could stop the three. He wasn't confident he could kill them and get away with it.

He avoided killing whenever possible. For one thing, as tough as he'd had to become, he still didn't like ending someone unless they really, truly deserved it. These guys were just idiots, chasing their tails like lost dogs. He still didn't know why they were so intent on retrieving the girl but he did know they were small timers and not very bright. He also had to consider the fact they were in his home and even if it wasn't his legally, it would be easy for police to pin three murders that took place in here back on him if something were to go wrong. Dealing with bodies wasn't his thing. He knew how to clean up, of course, but he'd only done it once, and he didn't really want to have to do it again.

So he made his choice.

"Get the fuck up." He motioned with the gun. "Grab your boy."

The one-eared man rose shakily. His companion was coming around and he dragged him up. The other was struggling to put weight on his knee.

"Now listen—I could kill you, you hear? But I ain't gonna. I'm gonna let you walk so you can tell your boss I don't know shit about this girl. And I don't have connections with Aizen. You tell him that, okay? And you leave me the fuck alone from now on."

He got no answer. Pride wouldn't let the man agree but their eyes met and it was understood.

They left.

Grimmjow tucked the gun into his back pocket and grinned.

"Fuck I'm good."

* * *

"The little shit's a fuckin' ninja," Stark laughed as he reviewed the surveillance footage with his boss. Aizen watched on, unfazed but the slightest touch of a smile on his lips.

"He is rather agile."

Stark's eyebrow arched. "I take it you aren't done with him."

"Stark, I haven't even started. Besides, he thinks he's won but he's just started something much bigger."

"He should have killed them, then."

"No. That would have sparked the same reaction in their boss. He made the right choice, but if he thinks he's in the clear, then he doesn't know who he's dealing with."

"Mmm." Stark nodded and looked down at his phone. "Carlin and his crew ain't big, but the kid's out numbered. And he doesn't know that girl was Carlin's sister. Or that Katagiri offed her two days ago when he found out who she was."

"Carlin over played his hand. He should never have tried to spy on Katagiri, least of all with his sister. He's next and he doesn't even know it 'cause he's too busy chasing after her."

"Fuck. And this kid's got himself smack dab in the middle of it all. He's either gonna get off Scott free when Katagiri takes out Carlin or he's gonna end up getting caught right in the middle of it all. Safest bet would be to bring him in."

"It would be. Go get him."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Grimmjow didn't know anything about the dead girl, Carlin or Katagiri. He also didn't know that at the moment Stark was in his apartment, cursing his name and dreading calling Aizen to inform him Grimmjow was nowhere to be found.

Instead of worrying about any of this, Grimmjow was intently staring down the wooden shaft of a pool cue and lining it up between his steady fingers. He tapped the tip against the cue ball. Balls banged and bounced and he grinned when the pocket shook, receiving its weight. Another man cursed but threw down his cash. Grimmjow didn't count it but slid it into his inside pocket.

"Thanks." He returned to the bar and took a drink. No one would have guessed he'd been in a fight for his life just thirty minutes ago. But this was his routine. Find people. Find calm. Stay clear of trouble. He would have to drift around for the next couple of days. He knew better than to just sit in his apartment and wait for retaliation. He'd have to keep an ear to the ground and find out what was up with those shitheads before he knew he'd be safe.

He slowed down when he felt the warmth of the alcohol spreading to his limbs. He needed to remain alert until he found a good spot to lay low. Somewhere he'd never been before. He turned on his phone. He only used it to contact dealers as he had no one else left in this world to call. After coming to life, however, he was shocked to see a message there.

_Come to the casino._

"That fucker," he said out loud. How had Aizen gotten his number? He'd never given it to either him or Stark, just his regular customers. He'd have to get rid of this phone now. Shit, that was inconvenient but he didn't want to be traceable. He hastily googled motels nearby, memorized the address and then juked his phone.

He was out the door before he could hear it ring.

* * *

Grimmjow slept on the hardest mattress money could buy. He groaned in the morning and spent the day walking by the sleaziest joints he knew, listening for info.

Midnight that night, he got the big news that Katagiri had taken out Carlin. He let out a breath. Well there was his problem solved. He stuck around long enough to hear the details. The girl had been his sister, and undercover to boot. Dumbass move.

He left the rumours behind. It was probably the best thing that could have happened for his sake. He'd be back looking for work tomorrow. He wandered around the rest of the night, just to make sure he was clear, and headed back to his place just as the sun came up.

He sighed, thinking about his broken door. Maybe he'd switch it with one from the restaurant. But that was more work than he felt like doing after a long couple of days.

He had no idea much bigger problems awaited him until he turned a corner and found three men huddled around their car, panting, cursing and panicked.

"It's all fucking gone! The boss! The business! What are we gonna—"

They stopped. Grimmjow stopped. It was the worst luck in the world. Not only had the three from the other night escaped the raid that had ended their organization, but he'd just walked in on them in the midst of their escape plans. In addition, it quickly became clear they did not know just who had executed the attack.

"You fuck!"

He had no ploy this time, no fake gas or preplanned assault. The moment they reached for their guns he bolted back the way he'd come but it only took one shot to stop him.

It cut through his thigh. He already knew it was nothing but a flesh wound when his hands scraped over the gritty sidewalk, but that was little consolation as it gave them time to catch up to him.

"Get the fuck off of me." He wrestled with them. What the hell was the point? They should be running not trying to get revenge on him.

"You fuck, did you go back to Aizen? Was that him?"

"What? It was Katagiri, you idiot!"

"How do you know?"

"Everyone knows by now! You really are dumb as shit, aren't you?"

"Yeah? Well I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, asshole."

He didn't go for his gun. He went for his knife that was still tucked in the back of Grimmjow's pants. "You might not have been responsible for the boss, but you took my fucking ear."

"Technically you did it to yourself."

"AH!" The knife plunged down.

Grimmow screamed.

His eyes bulged wide and though he was restrained by all three, he moved his head enough to look down at his right hand. The man's knife was clean through his palm. Grimmjow's whole body broke out in sweat, trembling from the shock and pain.

The man smiled. "We're gonna do this slow." But then he glanced around, as if just now realizing they were in plain sight. Then he nodded to his companions. "Get in him the car boys. We'll get our revenge on our way out of this fuck hole."

Grimmjow struggled. If they got him in that car it would be over. But they had him. Three against one, his leg was bleeding and his vision blurred from the pain in his hand. He caught the side of the car with the other but the butt of a gun came down on his arm and he let out another cry before they shoved him.

It wasn't until he was half way in the car that he realized just how idiotic these three really were. Sure, they were forcing him into the car, but none of them had gotten in to block his way from the other door. When his panicked mind realized this, he calmed, stopped struggling and toppled into the backseat. The movement sent shivers of electric pain though his hand—in which the knife was still buried—but he simply kept rolling over the seat, grabbed the door handle and vaulted out the other side.

The three men were half stunned by their own mistake, and it took them a moment to catch on and start chasing him. He had to hope that would give him the lead but with the wound in his leg he couldn't run full out.

He heard a shot. It bounced off brick and he made it around a street corner. He saw the water. He was almost home. His best bet would be the restaurant where there was a walk in freezer. It wasn't on of course, but once the heavy door shut he could lock it from the inside—he'd had this back-up plan arranged for quite some time. It wasn't an ideal solution as he would then be trapped, but at the moment it didn't look like he had much other choice.

The next shot took out the window of a parked car ahead of him. These guys were shooting at him in broad daylight when they themselves should have been running for their lives.

He heard their breaths. Shit they'd closed the distance. He saw home but went toppling in the dirt before he could reach it.

"Dammit." He scrambled to get up but someone had his ankle and punched him in the kidney as they dragged him back. He gagged and then screamed when a hand clenched around the knife in his own hand. Someone gave a twist. He saw black and barely even heard his own voice as another pained holler escaped him.

"Hold his fuckin' face."

Someone kicked him in the ribs. He was rolled onto his back. Another was on his stomach pulling a second knife from his belt.

"I'm gonna take your fuckin' eye." Hands steadied his head. He tried to shove the guy off but his left wrist was stomped. Then the other man above him raised his foot and planted it on the knife handle, driving it into the ear and pinning his ruined hand there.

Grimmjow was sure he screamed, but all he felt was the air thin, the lightening pain that rippled through his whole body, and the furious thrumming of his heart. Grimmjow convulsed in agony and could only watch as the knife point came toward his face.

A shot rang through the air. The three stopped, though still restraining Grimmjow.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Name's Stark, but it ain't me you gotta worry about." The gunmen nodded back over their shoulders.

They all turned slowly back the other way. No one had seen Sosuke Aizen coming. His gun was already on them. They were trapped between the mobster and his right hand.

"Shit." The man straddling Grimmjow swore.

Aizen ignored him and looked to Grimmjow. "The offer still stands, Grimmjow. Though my price has doubled. Two hours each. What will it be?"

Grimmjow stared back at Aizen. His breath was ragged, his hand freezing him with pain. And as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to be saved.

He shut his eyes. "Do it."

Three shots sounded in quick succession. The weight that had been straddling Grimmjow fell to one side.

"Get a move on." He heard Aizen say. Stark was already calling back up. They'd have to clear the body as soon as possible.

Grimmjow took a steadying breath and tried to sit. He went rigid, eyes gluing onto the knife impaling his hand.

"Ah…shit…"

He felt hands around his shoulders. Then he realized what was about to happen when Aizen covered his mouth.

"MMMM!" His scream was muffled but no less powerful when Stark yanked back on the blade and dug it out of Grimmjow's hand and the ground. He stared in shock at his ruined appendage, watching blood pour past the ragged edges of flesh.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Instead though his body sagged. Aizen's hold on him tightened and despite his effort to support himself his head fell back against the lapel of a suit that probably cost more than everything he owned.

His mind was slipping into the dark, but he was surprised by the crease of a frown on Aizen's face when he looked up into it. Instead of that cold, half-mocking expression, he saw what could have been mistaken for concern.

But it had to be a mistake, because Sosuke Aizen couldn't possible give a fuck about him.

His eyes rolled back. The last sensation he felt was that of the crisp, clean suit against his face and a whisper he couldn't understand.

* * *

**Grimmjow owes Aizen big this time! Much naughtiness ahead!**

**Please review!**

**~ZQ**


	5. Chapter 5

He woke to dead weight on his right side. It wasn't confusion, or, pain that gripped him when he flipped back the sheets, but panic.

"Shit." He didn't even bother worrying that he was back in Aizen's bed, he just lifted his white bandaged hand, staring at it but feeling nothing from the elbow down. "What the hell?" He gave it a shake, expecting waves of pain but there was still nothing.

"Don't." A steel grip closed over his wrist, staying further motion. He looked up at the man he hadn't even noticed. "It can't be moved much or you'll increase the damage."

"A-Aizen…" only now did the memory of the deal return to him and what price he still had to pay. For the moment, however, he saw none of that raw lust in the mobster's eyes. Instead, Aizen sat on the bed next to him and drew the sheets the rest of the way down. "As for the rest of you, it shouldn't be moved much either."

Grimmjow looked at the skin Aizen had bared. There were some bad bruises on his ribs but deep stitches along his thigh. He remembered the bullet slicing through him. It was the first time he'd been shot. He moved his leg a bit to test the level of pain. It hurt. So why didn't his hand?

"I can't feel anything," he said, gaze returning to the bandages. "Is it ruined?"

"No, local anesthetic. The surgeon just left about an hour ago. He's on my payroll. He was able to put things to right without taking you to hospital."

"Oh…thank you."

"Of course, we have a deal."

At this, Grimmjow stilled. Aizen just smiled. "Don't worry, I won't make you pay up while you're in this condition. I'll simply enjoy your company in the meantime."

"I'd rather get it over with." What was one more pain on top of these injuries?

"Slow down there, Grimmjow. You owe me six hours."

_Six hours_. Had he really understood that when he'd cried out for help? But just like last time, he'd had no other choice. Then something occurred to him.

"Why were you there? Were you looking for me?"

Aizen nodded. "I discovered the details of the girl's involvement and Katagiri's intentions. I was concerned you would wind up in the middle of it all, which you seem to have a knack for."

"Yeah but…why do you care?"

At this, Aizen smiled and leaned in. Grimmjow normally would have recoiled but he was captured by those eyes, the way they beheld him like no other ever had. And he really did want to know the answer to his question.

"Because I believe you're worth saving, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques."

Grimmjow felt the brush of lips against his temple but Aizen withdrew, the words still lingering in Grimmjow's mind. He felt the sheets pulled back up around his mostly naked form and a gentle hand push him back down on the bed.

"Rest up."

* * *

Grimmjow woke in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes and despite the dark clearly made out the form next to him. He shouldn't have been surprised, it was Aizen's bed after all. The other hadn't taken advantage of him while he was out. The bed was large and a safe distance remained between them. But soon enough they'd be as close as two men could get.

He shut his eyes at the thought. He remembered the unbelievable pain. He'd never thought sex could hurt that much. Aizen had said something about going easier this time, but would it really make a difference? He was no stranger to pain nor a wimp, but he still felt the prick of nervousness. He also didn't want to feel so vulnerable again. To be someone's plaything…how had he let it come to this? So far Aizen seemed to be treating him pretty fair but he was just waiting for the hammer to drop.

He let out a long breath. There was nothing he could do about it now. He'd made a deal, and as much as he wanted to run, he was a man of his word. He shut his eyes and tried to forget it all and go to sleep but his hand was throbbing and his bladder was full. He shifted carefully and drew the sheets back, doing his best not to disturb Aizen. He'd rather not wake him.

He sat, his bare feet touching down on a soft rug. Beyond the ornate edges was hardwood. Enough light from the city streamed through a gap in the curtains that he could see his way but he had yet to actually stand.

He tucked his arm against him and used his other hand to help push off from the mattress.

"Fuck," he hissed out in the dark when his wounded leg gave out on him and he crashed forward on his knees, grabbing the nightstand. He panted in pain. Worst though, was his hand. The jolt to his body seemed to return straight to that wound.

He took a minute to get his breath. He hadn't made much noise, despite falling, so Aizen remained asleep. He slowly pushed himself back up, gritting his teeth. His leg held this time. The wound was a bit deeper than he'd initially thought but it cut through the meat of his thigh and not through any tendons, as far as he could feel. It should heal without too much trouble.

He made it to the bathroom but by that time he was drenched in sweat from the pain and effort. He gently shut the door to, barely keeping up on his feet.

"Shit." He flicked on the light and stumbled to the toilet. It took everything he had to keep upright and completed the task one handed. When he was done, he used the sink to help him stand. He let his forehead fall against the cool surface of the mirror.

He was on fire. He panted for breath and let cold water fill the basin. When it was filled he leaned down and drenched his face and head. It felt good against his burning skin, but bending down was putting pressure on bruised ribs and other sore spots. He groaned and stood straight again, catching sight of dark marks all over his torso. It could have been worse, though, so much worse, and to dumb assholes like them too. Sometimes it didn't matter how clever or tough you were, when you were outnumbered.

"Fuck them," he grumbled and reached for a towel. He missed. His hand closed on empty air and the room tilted sideways. He hadn't realized he'd gotten this dizzy until he was falling.

Then his arm hit the floor and his hand smacked against tile.

He must have screamed, though he heard nothing, he just felt the pulsing pain shoot over and over through his nerves, telling his brain just how bad the damage was. But the door swung open and Aizen was above him. He swooped down on him, his silk pajama bottoms brushed against Grimmjow's heated flesh, then he was hoisted up and leaned back against tiled wall. It felt cool on his bare skin.

His head lolled, he felt a hand catch his chin and suddenly he was staring into brown eyes. They were framed by glasses. Did he wear contacts during the day? Grimmjow found himself wondering about this rather than listening to what the man was saying. He felt his body jerk when Aizen shook his shoulders. Then he lurched in pain again and tried to push him away.

His hand came up against Aizen's bare chest but that was about all he could do. He stared at his sculpted form, then his eyes droped to the floor and his hand fell back in his lap. Again he heard the voice but made out no words. He felt exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

"GRIMMJOW!"

"Arhg!" Ice water assaulted him. He tried to pull out of the iron grip that had him. His right hand throbbed even worse, if possible but he couldn't figure out where he was or what was happening. Instead he writhed again, trying to get away from the hands that forced him to stay in the painful spray.

"Calm down." There was a hand on his waist, two more legs jutted out before him than there should have been. He only now felt the touch of skin on his back, the smoothness of a shower bottom beneath his feet. He did calm, despite his panic. "Good."

"Aizen?"

"Yes. You have a dangerous fever. I've sent for the doctor."

"My hand…" he was just now seeing the bandages were off. He hadn't seen the stitches yet or the swelling and discoloration all around the wound.

"It's infected," Aizen confirmed.

"Am I…gonna lose it?"

"…we'll see."

Grimmjow's stomach bottomed out. He tried to pull away again but Aizen held him tight.

"Don't…don't take it, please…"

He felt his voice break. The pain and his fevered mind were too much. He gasped and struggled a moment longer before succumbing to it all.

* * *

Grimmjow had never known sickness like this. He was unconscious when the doctor came and flooded his system with the most powerful antibiotics on the black market. He remained asleep for an entire day, while he was given continued doses of medication and his hand iced. When he finally woke he vomited until there was nothing left save painful dry heaves. He couldn't think or speak or move until the second day and even then he was bedridden and slept on and off the entire day.

The following morning he finally came around completely. He felt disgusting inside and out when he sat up just before dawn. His hand was bandaged again. He hoped that meant the infection was down. He couldn't feel it much but he knew that was from the pain killers. He was pretty sure he'd been reduced to tears from the pain at some point, though he wasn't sure since most of it was a blur. If he had though, he was humiliated. He hadn't cried in years.

Aizen was not in bed. He wasn't sure if he'd been sleeping here or not. He saw the bedroom door open to the rest of the penthouse and heard the low murmur of television. He ventured to stand and was shocked that he actually managed it.

He staggered his way over to the door and peered out. There were a pair of shoes at the door to the outside hall. They looked wet. Aizen must have just gotten in, most of his business probably took place at night anyway. A giant flat screen lit up one wall above the fireplace. Grimmjow saw a news anchor and headlines about a fire. Then he looked down and saw Aizen seated on the leather couch, perfect posture, suit on and dark drink in hand. Grimmjow considered returning to the bed, but he didn't feel like sleeping anymore. Besides, he realized now he probably would have died even if he had gotten away from the three. He owed this man his life.

"You're up." Aizen turned when he heard him crossing the room. He watched Grimmjow's careful steps and rose.

"I got it." Grimmjow held up a hand, indicating he didn't want help. Aizen let him. He made it all the way but he was winded. He sat next to Aizen, though leaving a bit of distance between them.

"I take it you are feeling better."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad."

"Me too…" He took a steadying breath and lowered his eyes away from Aizen. "Thank you for the last few days."

His chin was caught and he was forced to look up again. "Of course." Aizen smiled. "I couldn't have you dying before you upheld your end of the deal."

Grimmjow withdrew at once. His arms folded over his bare abdomen in sudden self-consciousness. Aizen took a sip of his drink.

"Did I upset you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're afraid."

"It's not fear it's…" but he was lost for a better word to describe the coil in his stomach. "I'm not looking forward to it, that's all."

"I haven't grown on you at all?"

"Well I'm thankful..."

"Grimmjow." He started at the hand that came down on his arm. Aizen shifted and drew the young man against him. "I want to know how you really feel."

Grimmjow stared up at him. He should have been pulling away from the embrace and yet he found comfort in the warmth of the arms around him, in those piercing eyes that beheld him. But none of that helped him figure out what to say to this man—a man who despite everything, was still a virtual stranger.

"Why?" he asked finally. "Why me? I mean, do you do this with everyone or is this different?"

"Do I personally save the life of every street thug that crosses my path? Of course not."

"And the deal?"

"I've made it before, for different individuals that caught my eye."

"So this is just payment then?"

"No, Grimmjow, I think we both know it's more than that. You will pay me the time you owe me, but if that's all I wanted I could have found it elsewhere. I could have let you die and pinned those three bodies on you. I could have let the surgeon cut off your hand when he said it was the simplest, cheapest way to stop the infection."

Grimmjow's eyes widened. He looked down on his hand and then back up at the man who was pretty much telling him he felt something for him.

And his immediate reaction was to pull away. He felt something in his chest he didn't recognize. Though he slid back on the couch, his eyes remained glued on Aizen, his face, his steady eyes. He waited, watching Grimmjow right back.

Grimmjow wanted to exclaim: 'what are you saying,' but he already knew just what Aizen meant. He looked away—he had to. He couldn't think, even his breath was uneven. Then a hand wrapped around his jaw and drew him forward again.

Lips were on him before he realized that Aizen had moved into him. Leather pressed into his back before he understood he was being forced to lay. A weight settled on his bruised body just as he became aware of the hardness bulging in Aizen's pants.

He should have stayed in bed.

A hand tightened in the back of his hair, fierce, firm, but it was the other one, trailing over his naked torso that he really felt.

"W-wait," he stammered when Aizen's mouth moved down along his chin. Was this the deal? Were they starting now or was this something else?

"Shhh," Aizen hissed into his heated flesh, lips against his chest. Grimmjow's body tightened. He felt a rush of heat in his face as the kisses worked lower and Aizen took hold of his boxers.

"Stop!" he protested, his good hand coming up to Aizen's shoulder. It wasn't enough. He was bared. He started to sit, trying to move away but Aizen pressed him back. He hated how weak he was at the moment.

"Just relax. You're body's not ready for _that_ just yet."

"Then what?" Grimmjow's voice was shaking. He hated how nervous he sounded.

"Just lay still."

It was impossible. He squirmed and jerked from the tingling kisses that worked down his pelvis but his hips were held firmly and his legs pinned by Aizen's weight. He didn't obey and started to sit again when he felt lips against him.

"Ahh…" he collapsed back at the feeling of heat around him. When had he started to get hard? His cheeks burned red. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't control what his body did. But those thoughts left him as a tongue trailed down the underside of his shaft.

"Ah shit!" His hand clenched in leather. He wanted to move but he was pinned. His heart raced. His hand throbbed. His breath came fast and short. He stared at the ceiling, his stomach tightening when lips took him all the way in and began to slide up and down along with a flickering tongue. Grimmjow groaned out as the pleasure grew, slow and torturous.

He wanted relief. He bit his lip. His hips tried desperately to move but he was restrained. He gasped and shuddered and his hand scrapped over leather until he thought he was going to explode.

"Aizen…"

He was overwhelmed as soon as the mob boss sucked back. Aizen pulled away, letting Grimmjow release on the leather rather than in his mouth.

Grimmjow's back arched. He let out a long moan and felt the pulse of pleasure radiate through him in a way he'd never experienced before. It left him panting for a long time.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Grimmjow finally evened out his breathing.

"W-why did you do that?"

"To ease your fears about what's to come. It's Saturday morning. I think by Monday your body will be up to it."

"Monday…" Grimmjow sat with Aizen's help. "So six hours…"

"Not all at once, of course." Aizen took his hand and got him to his feet. Grimmjow staggered. He'd already felt weak. Now he couldn't refuse the steadying hand that wrapped around his waist as they headed back to the bedroom.

"How many times then?"

"I don't know, it just depends how fast we go."

Grimmjow needed to stop talking about it. As good as that just felt, none of this was part of the life he'd planned for himself. And he'd certainly never planned on being on the receiving end of things. He thought about the girl in the club. He'd wanted her, but he'd been hesitant to take from her in such circumstances. Now she was dead because she'd been on the wrong side.

Wasn't he now in the exact same position?

Aizen took them into the washroom. He turned on the tap to the bath. Grimmjow was glad. He wanted to clean up from being sick and from just now. The only thing was, he suspected he wouldn't be bathing alone.

Aizen must have had something to do, though, because he did in fact leave Grimmjow in privacy. He sighed with relief and sank in the warm water.

His leg stung. He'd removed the bandage and the heat now pricked his stitched skin. His right hand he kept tilted over the edge so it wouldn't get wet. He was glad he was left handed. It was very inconvenient to have only one working hand but at least it was the one he used most.

He scrubbed his abdomen first, eager to clean up his own mess. He still felt hot from it all. Was it normal to be able to get stimulated from something like that, even if he wasn't into men? But then, there was nothing normal about sharing a bed with Sosuke Aizen or having him take care of him for the past three days.

"Why me?" he said aloud, tilting his head back and dipping under the surface. He basked in the feeling of being consumed by the heat and weight of water. It was constricting and freeing all at once. He held his breath until his chest burned and then came back up. The air suddenly felt cold against his face. It felt good. But his question hovered in the air where he'd left it. Why did a man like Aizen want him? Why after just that one encounter had he gone to such lengths to keep him safe?

Sex. It all came down to that, he decided. He discarded the look Aizen had given him on the couch, the words, the declaration that he was 'worth saving' and decided the mobster wanted him for one thing and one thing only. That he could deal with. For whatever reason, Aizen must have just found him particularly attractive and since he always got what he wanted, he would go to whatever lengths necessary to have it.

Grimmjow stayed in the bath a long time but finally pulled out when the water was cool and his toes were pruned. He wanted clothes, but he didn't know where to find them. However, just like last time, there was a bag waiting. He didn't really like that Aizen bought him clothes. He wanted his own, but this was his only option. They were looser than before, no doubt to accommodate his injuries. He still struggled into the t-shirt, hissing as his hand went through the sleeve. He was just dressed when he heard a knock on the door.

"You decent?" It was Stark.

"Yeah."

The door opened. Stark had a bottle of water in one hand and a pills in the other. "Your antibiotics. Take them now then I'll get you some food."

Grimmjow swallowed them back. Stark started to go but Grimmjow stopped him.

"Do I have to stay here?"

"In the bedroom?"

"No, I mean here."

"Oh." Stark looked him over. "You want to go for a walk?"

Grimmjow knew he wouldn't get a straight answer on whether or not he was free to walk out of the building, so he accepted this offer. He also knew he wasn't up to making an escape and maybe he wasn't even up to being on his own, so for now he'd stay. But was he expected to remain here until all six hours were fulfilled? The terms of their deal were vague and that made Grimmjow nervous.

"How about a little tour?" Stark offered taking them though a skywalk that joined one part of the casino to the hotel.

"Stark."

"Yeah?"

"Has Aizen ever done this with anyone else?"

Stark kept walking, but Grimmjow could read that he was hesitant to talk openly about his boss this way.

"Not so…intently."

Grimmjow had suspected but it still hit him hard.

"Listen kid, this could be a good thing for you."

"You said that before, in the car."

"Right. I also said you should think about your feelings."

"I don't have any, not where Aizen's concerned."

"If that's true than you need to let him know. You need to take what's coming your way and then walk away. But if that ain't true, well, you should let him know that too, before he takes things the wrong way."

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said last time, he'd not bad, but he's not good either. You don't want him playing around with you, but you can't play around with him either. He might run out of patience."

With that warning they entered the Casino from a private floor, taking them out onto a landing that let them survey the floor of green tables, white tile, glittering glass and silver and blinking machines. A man in a black uniform with an ear bud overlooked it all even though it was still morning and only a few people were having breakfast mimosa at a bar. Dealers weren't out yet. Someone pulled the arm of one of the lotto machines.

"Have you ever been here before?" Stark asked.

"No. Pool is about all the gambling I do."

"You hustle?"

"When I need cash."

"Then you can learn this stuff no problem. If you end up sticking around, I'll teach you sometime."

Stark seemed very at ease. He must have been high ranking in the organization, maybe even Aizen's right hand.

"How's the leg?" he asked when they came to another hall. Grimmjow had been limping but since the bath he'd been steadier.

"I'm fine."

"Good, food's down this way." They left the luxury of the public halls for service entries and came to the busy kitchen back in the hotel. Stark snagged a couple plates while no one was looking—even though Grimmjow was sure he was entitled to whatever food he wanted—and motioned Grimmjow to followed him through another door. They took one more hall and came to a secure door. Stark pushed in and they sat before rows of monitors.

"This is my favourite pass time," he admitted setting a plate on Grimmjow's lap once he was seated. Grimmjow looked to the monitors. Hallways, the lobby, the casino—it was all caught on camera here.

"You wouldn't believe the drama that plays out on these screens. It's better than daytime tv."

Grimmjow continued to scan them and finally spotted the front desk of Aizen's office. He also saw the landing to the penthouse but nothing more.

"No camera's in Aizen's suite?"

"Nope. Whatever happens in there, stays in there," Stark responded knowingly. Grimmjow was relieved. It would be hard enough to go through what awaited him with just Aizen. He wasn't sure he could do it if he knew others were watching.

"Eat up kid." Stark dug into his own meal. Grimmjow picked at his slowly. It was partly because he hadn't eaten in days so his stomach was cramped and not up for much, but mostly he knew it was because his thoughts were stuck on Monday.

It took no time for the day in question to arrive. He spent a little more time with Stark, but mostly he rested in Aizen's Penthouse. He slept on the couch though. Aizen said nothing about it but Grimmjow sensed this displeased him. He remembered Stark's warning but he didn't really know how to take it yet. On Monday evening he waited nervously by the pool table. He couldn't play with his busted hand, but he leaned against it, watching the news—or pretending to. His mind was too occupied with other things.

He shot to his feet when the door opened. He wasn't sure why, but he stood straight and stiff. Aizen noticed. He untied his shoes and hung his coat. Then he went to the bar and got a drink.

"Join me."

It wasn't a request. Grimmjow didn't mind. He watched Aizen pour the drink, however, making sure there was nothing added. Then he relaxed. Wouldn't it be better in a way, if he did throw in something extra? Maybe he should ask, maybe that would make it better.

But he said nothing. He drank deep. He let it spread through him and it hit fast since he still wasn't eating as much and his body was strained from the antibiotics. He welcomed the feeling and drank more until his fingers and toes felt tingly. Aizen cut him off then. He could probably tell and he must want him at least partly clear headed.

"Let's go."

He took his hand. Grimmjow slid from the stool when he was pulled forward. He followed after Aizen like a robot. He stayed at the door when his hand was released. Aizen had shut it but now took a moment to pull off his tie, his suit jacket, and fold them. Then he went to the closet, reached high and drew something down. It was a clock of some sort...no, a timer, Grimmjow realized, his stomach tightening. Aizen was really going to hold him to his word at six hours. He pushed buttons until it read 6. Then he set it near the night stand where he also drew out a tube of lube. He set it down again though.

"Since you seemed so worried about your time the other day, I thought this was the only fair way."

"Ah…yeah."

Aizen depressed the button at the top. The numbers began to count down.

"Then let's get started."

He moved over the room with speed. Grimmjow stood where he was. Aizen was quick to remove his shirt. He was, however, careful of his hand, easing it out of the t-shirt. He held his wrist considering the appendage. Grimmjow hoped this meant he'd be keeping in mind it couldn't be moved much.

"How is it today?" he asked dropping his hand and taking his waist. His fingers played over Grimmjow's sides as he watched him.

"It's okay," he whispered back. He was looking down, watching Aizen's hands move up his body, slow, intentional, exploratory.

"I'll be careful." Aizen slipped his hands behind Grimmjow's back now and pulled him flush against him.

Grimmjow just nodded. He found it hard to breathe, especially when Aizen closed the distance completely.

Hungry hands held him tight, sliding up and down his bare back, but an even hungrier tongue delved into his mouth. Aizen had been in his proximity for about a week and not touched him—well not like this anyway. It was clear now that his desire had only grown with the restraint he'd shown then.

He spun them around and walked them backwards. Grimmjow felt the bed hit the back of his legs. Aizen slowed when he lowered them down. But as soon as he was on the bed with Grimmjow beneath him he picked up his pace again. He kissed deep. He touched everywhere until his torso wasn't enough and hands went for his belt, his fly.

Grimmjow focused on breathing when Aizen's mouth parted from his and he pulled down Grimmjow's pants. He threw them from the bed then went for his boxers.

Even now Grimmjow blushed. Even now he felt shame, fear—everything he hated to feel. But when Aizen started to touch him, he realized he was already half hard.

What did that mean? What did that make him?

He must have shut his eyes, because next thing there was a hand on one side of his face and Aizen was right over top of him.

He looked about to speak, but instead he bent in again. This time though, the kiss was very soft, very quick, almost like a reassurance, before he returned to what he was doing down below.

Grimmjow covered his mouth. He didn't know if that would offend Aizen or not but when the other started to touch him until he became fully hard, he didn't want to make those sounds. He held back until Aizen withdrew and he watched him pull the shirt from his own shoulders.

Grimmjow stared at solid muscle—not bulky, but sharply cut into his lean physique. Grimmjow himself was very muscular, but he was still young. It would take him a few more years to have the solidity of Aizen's form. He wondered in the back of his mind how old this man was. He tried to recall things he'd heard. Was he in his thirties? Forties? If a person took good care of themselves, they could look younger than they were. Aizen definitely looked like he took care of himself, and Grimmjow couldn't imagine him aging, his tight body sagging with fat or old age. He seemed too powerful to be affected by such ordinary things.

He was fascinated by Aizen. He could admit that to himself. And he was gripped by the fact that Aizen had chosen him to rescue, to save. But beyond that he would admit nothing. He would ignore any other thought that suggested sentiment toward this man.

So he steeled his heart along with his mind, when Aizen settled back on the bed, lube in hand.

"Roll over."

Grimmjow didn't want to. He didn't want to give up the ability to see and know what was coming but he was on Aizen's time now. He did what he said, rolling so he was on his stomach. Aizen shifted pillows around and pushed one at Grimmjow's hips. He told him to lift them before slipping it beneath him. Grimmjow's face burned. Now his ass was arched up in the air while he lay face down. It was humiliating.

Aizen's hand swept down his back, making him shiver. He gripped the sheets with his left hand, staring at the counting clock. Really, fifteen minutes, that was it? How was it possible? At this rate his six hours would never be up. Six nights of this—that was if each session endured for an hour. Would they be in a row, spread out? Would he be allowed to leave between sessions? Just what had he signed on for when he'd asked to be saved?

"Tonight we'll start slow." He heard Aizen but he couldn't feel or see him. He'd gotten off the bed again, which made Grimmjow nervous. He heard a drawer open on the other side of the room. He started to shift but the drawer was shut before he could see. "I'm doing this to prepare you, not to hurt you."

That was far from comforting, and when Grimmjow felt the fabric at his ankle he instantly started to recoil.

"Easy," Aizen soothed.

"What? I don't want to be tied up!" he protested, trying to right himself but with only one working hand and his ankle trapped he was off balance and couldn't flip over.

"Only for the beginning," Aizen reassured but Grimmjow wasn't giving in.

"No way. I didn't agree to this."

"You agreed to six hours. I decide what we do in those six hours."

Grimmjow grit his teeth. He didn't think he could handle restraints…feeling trapped.

The hand on his ankle slackened. He felt the fabric pull away with a soft sigh. Aizen took him by the shoulder and rolled him back over. He was stiff—more like rigid—from the tension that had built in him. Aizen's hand pressed into his shoulder, keeping him down but he faced him straight on.

"It bothers you that much?"

A nod.

"Fine." He didn't sound disappointed, or angry. He was calm, even. Again Grimmjow thought back to what Stark had said. _Eventually his patience would run out_. Apparently it hadn't run out quite yet.

"I'm going to loosen you up with this." He held up the object he'd retrieved from the drawer. It was a dildo, shiny with lube. Grimmjow stared at it. It wasn't as big as Aizen himself. Aizen smirked as if he could read his thoughts.

"Not as impressive as the real thing, I know. But then, that would defeat the point."

He leaned down and slid an arm behind Grimmjow's head. His other hand went low and Grimmjow felt the end at his entrance.

"Take a breath."

Grimmjow did. Aizen pushed in. He tensed up and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth. Aizen continued to push. The dildo slid in smoothly, though it still stretched and pulled his muscles in an unnatural, borderline painful way. Finally though, the object was buried, stretching him. He realized with dread that if this was stretching him, what would Aizen's girth do to him?

The same as last time, he supposed

"Easy now," Aizen whispered, drawing back. Grimmjow tilted his head, looking down his body to Aizen's busy hand. He saw the end of the object when it was almost all the way out, then Aizen pushed in again.

Aizen leaned in and kissed Grimmjow's chin. His lips worked lower, teeth scraping along his jaw line, then his neck. Grimmjow felt hot. He wasn't sure which sensation flushed him more: the lips at his throat or the friction inside of him.

He tried to relax. He willed his body to calm and let go of the fear and pain. He willed the liquor to take him to a place where he didn't care. But in truth he remained ever in the present, feeling the heat on his skin and inside of him. Aizen began to move the object faster. He refused, however, to give pleasure with it. He never hit his mark though his other hand occasionally caressed Grimmjow's need.

Grimmjow became drenched in sweat. He began to shake and his hips to buck and his body to give in to all that assaulted it. Only when a moan escaped him against his will did Aizen withdraw the object, and stand. He stripped while Grimmjow watched—why did he watch? He knelt at the end of the bed and then bent forward over Grimmjow. He smiled and Grimmjow almost opened his mouth for the kiss that came.

What the fuck was he doing? He should be screaming, fighting.

No he shouldn't. He'd given his word.

He gripped Aizen's shoulder. He knew it was coming and he needed something to hold onto. Aizen's eyes settled back on his, serious now, as he lined up. He shifted his weight until it was evenly distributed on either side of Grimmjow's body, then he pushed his hips forward.

Again, Grimmjow was overwhelmed. He bent up, half sitting, unintentionally pressing himself into Aizen. The other gripped him, as if embracing him, holding his panting form against his taught muscle. Grimmjow breathed in his heat, his scent. He hugged him with his good hand, unable to think of what else to do to ease this pain. He thought as long as he maintained this embrace, Aizen wouldn't move. But Aizen kissed his temple and lay him back down. Grimmjow looked down at the seemingly impossible proximity of their hips. His mind reeled at the idea of their bodies so closely melded. Then he screamed when Aizen moved.

His head fell back completely. Aizen stopped, to his surprise. He waited for Grimmjow to catch his erratic breath, then he drew back so slowly it must have required all his muscles to control the movement. He inched his way out again, bit by bit, giving Grimmjow relief, but when he was almost all the way out again, he started to push back in.

Grimmjow's lower lip bled. He'd bitten it hard and he continued to as the pain in his abdomen grew. He stared up at Aizen's sweat plastered face. He knew he was restraining himself. He knew he was being given mercy at this moment.

Aizen held out a little while longer, drawing in and out at the impossibly slow pace in order to get Grimmjow ready. But eventually even his willpower was reduced to primal urges and he began to speed up.

Grimmjow couldn't say it was as bad as last time. Indeed, the preparation made a difference, and he found that place of pleasure above pain a bit faster, but it didn't mean the pain didn't exist. He shut his eyes. He clawed Aizen's arm. He yelped, moaned and groaned until the latter was all he was doing and suddenly he wasn't panting in panic but in need, and his hips began to shake, to rock and that incredible place deep inside him throbbed again and again as Aizen stroked it with impossible precision.

"AHH! FUCK!" he screamed, thinking of the cameras and how he was so glad Stark wasn't watching. "FUCK!" he yelled again and left red lines in Aizen's back. "Finish it!" he whispered desperately when breathing became strained.

"Aizen," he barely breathed and finally the relief—the pleasure—he sought came.

He'd never in his life experienced an orgasm so intense or long lasting.

He lay in a stupor after, as Aizen gathered him in his arms. He still felt the hot liquid deep inside him. He was disgusted and satisfied all at once.

He saw the clock when Aizen reached past him to shut it off.

Thirty seven minutes.

He passed out in that intimate embrace.

* * *

**Well, I don't know about you but now I'm tired. Big chapter, hope you enjoyed.**

**~ZQ**


	6. Chapter 6

His backside burned. It wasn't as bad as last time. He'd known that as soon as he'd woken and been able to stand. But it hurt like hell and his legs were still wobbly.

He remembered the orgasm. He remembered how hard he came. He wished he had just screamed and felt only pain. He wished everything could be black and white like it had been a month ago.

Aizen's hand slid over his bare side. He flinched and rolled from the touch. That's when he'd discovered he could stand. It was also, however, when Aizen had come awake to find him recoiling.

He thought he saw a bit of what Stark meant in brown eyes before they could even themselves out. Would Aizen tire of his skittishness? And what would he do when he did?

"I gotta piss," Grimmjow said lamely, trying to diffuse the situation. He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. He let out a long leak but it didn't give him the real relief he desired. He washed up and opened the door. Aizen was already up and dressed.

"I'll see you tonight," he said it coolly. He was mad, he must be. Grimmjow watched him go then sank back to the bed for a moment.

His body ached. He'd had to endure too much pain lately. He didn't like having this added on. But the physical pain was something direct, easy to deal with. It was the rest of him that really bothered him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why didn't he run away? Why didn't he tell Aizen he was cruel, sick bastard? Why did some part of him care that Aizen had left angry?

He shoved off from the bed. This wasn't him. He'd never cared about what other people thought—not since he'd left home, anyway. He had to find that again. He had to reclaim that anger that had gotten him though trial after trial since he was just a kid.

He stood straight and calmed.

He would face this head on, and get through it like everything else.

* * *

"What?" Aizen looked at him across the table. They had started with a meal tonight. Grimmjow had only picked at his. Now he dropped his fork.

"What do you think?"

"Was I not fair last night?"

"Sure."

"Grimmjow."

"What?"

"Look at me."

He did. He kept his eyes hard, narrow. He watched Aizen's expression change to match his own.

"So you despise me."

"You expect anything different?"

Aizen's hand slammed down. He table shook between them. Grimmjow watched his chest inflate before slowly compressing again.

"Fine. We'll do this your way." He stood and grabbed Grimmjow's good wrist, pulling him up. He dragged him to the bedroom and his hand slammed down on the clock.

"Knees," he ordered.

Grimmjow stared at him a moment. Aizen pressed on his shoulders until his body complied and he sank to his knees. Aizen wasted no time pulling down his own pants and revealing his stiff cock.

"Go on," he prompted.

Grimmjow gaped. He hadn't the first clue how to do this, nor the stomach for it. But a hand was in his hair in a second, forcing his head forward.

"Do it!"

Aizen's fingers tightened. Grimmjow took a steadying breath. The timer was on. He had to do as he was told. He opened his mouth.

Aizen shoved in. He made no effort to accommodate the fact Grimmjow had never done this before. His fingers knotted in blue hair and guided him along his shaft. Grimmjow had no choice but to take him in, clumsily licking and sucking.

He did try. Somehow he knew things would get worse if he didn't, but he didn't really succeed either. He tried to think about himself and what he would want to feel but none of that seemed to translate in the heat of the moment, when a sour taste filled his mouth and Aizen's hands pulled his head so tight he felt pressure at the back of his throat and his eye watered for the torn hair follicles.

He gagged when Aizen began to thrust.

His eyes streamed with water. He tried to pull away but Aizen held him in place with both hands now, as his hips rocked forward. Grimmjow's hand came up to the crime lord's leg and tightened over his flesh in the only way he could communicate his pain, his panic at being suffocated. Aizen ignored it. He made Grimmjow work until he was overcome and then he made him swallow it all or risk drowning.

Grimmjow pulled back as soon as he was let go. Aizen hit the clock meaningfully but Grimmjow couldn't see it past the tears that had filtered into his vision. He held a hand against his mouth for a moment then he knew worse was coming and staggered up.

He collapsed against the toilet bowl as he vomited. The door was only partially shut and he could see Aizen still perched on the edge of the bed as his guts spewed violently. When he saw Aizen stand he lurched away from the toilet and shoved the door shut with bang.

He collapsed back against the bathtub. He knew he was acting childish. He'd brought this on himself, but he still didn't want this. He didn't want to feel used the way he did now. He stomach clenched again. He made it to the toilet just in time, but the door pressed inward as his body convulsed.

He raised his hand when he was done, the only way left to him to keep some distance between himself and this man.

"What?" Aizen challenged. "I offered you everything. Clearly you don't want it, you want out of this a quickly as possible so why not indulge me? Why not let the clock keep ticking?"

He bent down. Grimmjow watched him carefully. He dared not speak, for the truth of his feelings might accidentally escape. Aizen gripped his shoulders.

His shirt came off. Then his pants. Grimmjow lay back on cold tile between the sink and the tub. He didn't want it like this, but he couldn't admit what else he wanted so he took it. He shrieked when Aizen thrust in. He was unprepared. It hurt like hell. He screamed repeatedly. Aizen slowed at the end, as if some part of him was still merciful, but then he came and crushed Grimmjow beneath him, rocking him hard until it was over.

Grimmjow rolled away from him after. He couldn't help that his body curved in on itself. He couldn't help that tears pricked his eyes or blood ran from deep inside him.

He wished Aizen had walked away from him then, so he could hate him in earnest, but he didn't. Instead, Aizen folded him in his arms and scolded him for being so proud. Grimmjow didn't move—refused to move—but hours later he woke in the bed. He wiped his face. He shivered in pain. He wished for all the world he could be free—but he knew that if he walked away now, freedom was not what he would find.

* * *

"It would be helpful if you spoke your mind."

Aizen ate breakfast at the side table in the bedroom. Grimmjow refused to budge from where he sat, back against headboard and arms wrapped around his knees. He was in pain and the position wasn't helping, but he felt more defensible this way.

"Let me go."

"You are not my prisoner."

"Good. Then I want to go home."

"The deal isn't done. You still owe me almost five hours." Grimmjow shut his eyes. Aizen had gone at him hard and fast last night, so very little time had been eaten away from his total.

"Fine. But I don't want to stay here in the meantime."

"So long as you understand I will come to collect what is mine."

"Fine."

Aizen nodded and rose. He said nothing more before leaving. Grimmjow sat a while longer, emotions higher than he ever would have admitted, and then gathered the clothes Aizen had purchased for him. He dressed and struggled to stand. He struggled more to walk to the door. Stark found him half way down the hall. He silently slipped an arm around his waist

"I warned you."

"Shut up," he muttered but when they were in the elevator he had to face him. His eyes flicked to the side and without understand why he said aloud—"I just want to go back to my life."

"He would understand, if you just let him."

"I don't want to let him. I don't want to…"

Stark eyed him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Grimmjow said. "Are you driving me home?"

"Are you asking me to?"

Grimmjow had swallowed too much of his pride already. "Yeah." He didn't want to walk or try to catch a bus in this condition.

"Good, at least you haven't lost all reason," Stark sighed. They exited to the parking lot and came to the car. "But I suggest you control that temper of yours and show Aizen how you really feel before next time."

"Shut up." Grimmjow sat carefully in the passenger seat.

"He'll get everything he can out of you, just because he's hurt."

_"Hurt?_ _He's_ hurt_?" _Grimmjow shook his head, incredulous. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Damn, kid, you are dumb if you don't know the answer already."

Grimmjow still tried to figure it out. He came up with nothing.

"Well, whatever, kid," Stark concluded when they rolled up to his place. "Just expect him to come, okay?"

"When?"

"Whenever he feels like it. Later."

Stark drove off. Grimmjow stared after him. His fist clenched and he went inside. The door was repaired. Had Aizen ordered this? His jaw clenched now. He slid his key in the lock and entered.

It was clean, even after the fight. Aizen had definitely done this, but instead of relief he felt rage. His fist balled as tight as it would go and his foot found the nearest object: a box of junk that had been ruined but they hadn't thrown out on him. Fuck! They considered everything! They took care of everything. All the independence he'd strived for over the years had evaporated just like that. He'd gone back to relying on someone to take care of him, protect him. He'd become weak and used all over again.

"FUCK!" His fist planted in the wall. He shivered from the pain but it was nothing compared to the heat of his rage. Plaster broke free as he withdrew his left hand. He shook out the pain but blood clung to his knuckles along with white powder.

He dropped his hand. He made it to the couch and sagged. He buried his face in air-freshened fabric but did not cry. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Instead he took several calming breaths, rose stripped and trashed the clothes Aizen had given him. He showered long and dressed in his own clothes.

Let him come. Let him do what he wanted. As soon as those six hours were up, Grimmjow would never have to see Sosuke Aizen again.

* * *

"Of course you brought it." Grimmjow rolled his eyes, seeing the timer in Aizen's hand. Grimmjow slung back his beer—he didn't even know what number it was.

"You were waiting for me." Aizen left the timer on Grimmjow's night stand. His eyes roamed up and down Grimmjow's body, seeing the sweat, the stain of beer that had slipped between his bottle and his lips down the neck of his shirt. "For quite some time."

"All damn night." Grimmjow slammed his bottle down. "I thought maybe you weren't coming."

"I was busy." It was well past midnight. Aizen stripped his coat, then the jacket to his suit before returning to the night stand, hand hovering over the timer. "You ready?"

Grimmjow just nodded. The timer began. Aizen said one word.

"Strip."

Grimmjow turned away from him. His anger had gotten out of control as the day wore on. He'd broken a few things in his home, but now the boiling rage wouldn't let him stare this man straight on. He did his best to undress one handed, still staring at the wall, away from Aizen. When his hand caught in his shirt due to the bandage, he swore but also heard the floorboards creak behind him.

"Easy." Aizen's hands were on him. They slid down his bare shoulder, his arm and to his wrist where the fabric was caught. He gently loosened the shirt so it would slide painlessly past his bandage. When he was done, he remained behind Grimmjow, holding his shoulders. A few seconds passed and his hands descended his torso and held him around the abdomen.

"You seem angry."

Grimmjow said nothing, just let a thick breath depart from his lips.

"Grimmjow?"

"Just get to it, alright?" He felt fingers clench over his skin. He'd antagonized him. He knew the pain was coming now. In some sick, messed up way, that gave him relief.

Because it was really the pleasure that had made him angry, scared, confused. It was the pleasure he didn't want to feel again. And if Aizen took him by force, hurt him, it would be so much easier to push this all away, once it was over, compartmentalize it and forget it with well-rehearsed ease.

"If that's what you want."

Those firm hands forced him toward the bed. They made him lay face down while his pants were wrestled off of him. Worse, though, Aizen returned to previous attempt and this time Grimmjow had no way to persuade him to stop.

He lay face down on his own bed as Aizen tied his ankles to the posts. He was humiliated, enraged, and worst of all, scared. He lay panting for breath, his body shaking, as Aizen's fingers delved into him. When it was something worse, he'd have no room to escape, no room to lessen the blows.

He whimpered. Shit. Had that sound really come from him? Had he just made a noise so pathetic is sounded like a wounded animal?

Aizen's fingers stilled. He waited with strained breath and then felt Aizen withdraw. Relief spread through him for just a second then the fingers were replaced by something else, something long and thick and cold. He winced as it was pushed in. He yelped when it was turned on—he didn't know it could vibrate.

His whole lower half was pulsating. The vibrations ran through his spine, his muscles and of course, his prostrate. He was getting hard fast and with no relief. He squeezed his eyes shut and wondered how long Aizen would force him to endure.

Eventually, his legs snapped in their bindings. He didn't know how long it had been but he'd had enough. He needed to be free. He needed to have release both in his genitals and his legs. His ankles snapped taught. Aizen put a hand in his lower back warning him to stop but he couldn't. He yanked again, desperate. His body rocked forward on the bed. Pain shot through his right hand as he reached even with his wounded hand to try to twist himself, escape the restraints.

His heart raced. He was trapped. He couldn't be trapped. He couldn't handle being trapped.

"Stop." Aizen's hands were on him but it only caused him to panic more. He barely noticed the device come out of him, all he felt now were the restraints. His breathing had turned erratic, uneven. He tried to reach back to undo his legs only to find Aizen there.

"Agh, let me go," he hollered. He didn't catch the look on Aizen's face when he pressed both hands to the mattress and heaved back. The agony in his right hand escaped him in a wild scream. He collapsed back, panting, but still struggled.

"Let me go…letmego…." He sagged forward, trying to breathe, muscles still jerking to get free. Until finally something snapped and he felt skin against his skin as Aizen loosened the restraints and pulled his legs free.

Grimmjow rolled off the bed at once, away from the hands and restraints. He groaned in pain, his right hand throbbing, but he worked his way up, leaning back against the night strand where he could see Aizen. Behind him on the nightstand, the numbers on the timer dwindled. His heart rate matched their timing, then it increased, beating faster, then twice as fast as the seconds descended.

"Stop!" he cried out when Aizen moved his way. He did stop. Aizen watched him, those piercing eyes softer than they had been last time.

Why?

Aizen reached for him. Grimmjow recoiled.

The timer stopped. Grimmjow dared open eyes that he had involuntarily shut and look up at Aizen who was just withdrawing his hand from the clock.

Grimmjow ducked past him and into the washroom, slamming the door shut. He fell back against it, still on the verge of panic. No. He couldn't let it win. He needed to stop it before it grew. But he already smelled aged leather, dusty winter jackets and dry wood. He already felt the cold, the dark, the four walls pressing in on him.

Fuck. FUCK. "FUCK!" He smashed the mirror before he could see himself, see a reminder of that scared kid who'd run away. He lifted his fist—the side of it had been cut but he didn't even feel that. He felt the burn from the restraints, the hands from his memories.

He wasn't sure when the door behind him opened. He wasn't sure when hands slid around him, turned him and held him. And he wasn't sure when he had given in—now, or perhaps a week ago or even sooner—to this man. But he held him back, he closed his eyes, and somehow he knew that in this embrace, he was safe.

* * *

**Loving the feedback! Thanks so much! **

**~ZQ**


	7. Chapter 7

"Just for the day," Grimmjow stressed as they drove through the city.

"Just for the day," Aizen confirmed. "The doctor needs to take a look."

"Okay."

It was the next morning. Grimmjow's eyes felt swollen. He hadn't cried, but he'd been awake almost all night and he'd been unable to calm down for most of it. Aizen had lain next to him, but that was all. He didn't touch him while he was in crisis, save to steady him, or try to calm him.

"Here we are."

They parked at a private entrance. They rode the elevator in silence. They entered the apartment. Aizen prompted him to lay down while he waited. He left him alone, in the quiet of the room. Grimmjow lay staring out at the day beyond the balcony. He could have gotten up to close the blinds but he already knew he'd never sleep so he just stared out at arcing gulls and sunlit pollution.

"Grimmjow." There was a knock. The door pushed in. Aizen accompanied the doctor inside.

Both hands were examined. He was given stitches on the left. On his right, the doctor squeezed each finger in turn, making him hiss in pain, which was apparently a good sign. He was reassured that eventually, he should regain all function in the appendage. Grimmjow was incredulous. He had thought it would never work properly again.

This news lifted his spirits, but he still felt exhausted and worn down from the previous night.

"What happened, yesterday?" Aizen asked when they were once again alone.

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing."

"I just…can't do restraints."

"I see." The way Aizen said it suggested he knew there was more but was choosing to let it drop. Grimmjow was half grateful and half pissed.

"I think you should stay here tonight."

"You said I could go." Grimmjow rose at once.

"Not for the deal. For your health."

"My health is fine, the doc just said."

Aizen reached out, ran a hand down his arm, grasping his fingers for just a moment before letting him go.

"Stay."

"…Aizen." He took a breath. Then he raised his eyes—no more cowering. No more fear. "I don't know what I want."

He held that gaze. It took several seconds but he received a nod. "I understand."

"So what happens now?"

"Your choice."

"I want to go. I want to be alone."

"If that's what you want," Aizen stepped back. "I'll take you."

It was different this time. Aizen drove. Grimmjow sat in silence the whole way. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the city but they kept darting back to Aizen. When they arrived, Aizen parked and turned off the engine. He followed him up the stairs.

"When will you come back?" Grimmjow asked at the threshold. He wasn't much shorter than Aizen but he felt like he was staring straight up to see in his eyes.

"Not right away."

"Okay…"

"Grimmjow."

"Yeah?"

Aizen lifted a hand. It hovered a second before sliding behind his head and into his hair, steadying him as he bent in and kissed him deep. Grimmjow didn't have time enough to process and respond before Aizen withdrew again.

"Your honesty is appreciated."

He stepped away completely and turned for the stairs. Grimmjow took a few steps forward before he caught himself and retreated back inside his apartment.

He let out a very long sigh. It felt like one of relief.

It couldn't be.

* * *

Aizen didn't come again for two weeks. And when he did, he called. Grimmjow answered in surprise about ten pm on a Friday night. He hadn't been doing anything. Lately, he'd done little of anything since he couldn't work until his hand was better. He'd been exercising obsessively, trying to regain some of the strength he'd lost since the whole ordeal. He felt good. He'd needed the time alone, and untouched but now Aizen was on the other end asking him if now was a good time.

"Yeah." He found himself saying without thinking. He hung up. He waited to be hit by the dread and nervousness but it didn't come. Instead he showered and changed. He put away the dishes in the sink. Only when he sat down and watched the door did he start to feel a coil in his stomach.

He answered the door when the knock came. Aizen was shimmering with moisture. The fog from the harbour must have settled in already.

Grimmjow stepped aside for him and shut the door. Aizen hung his coat and removed his shoes before turning back to Grimmjow.

"You look well," he said.

"I feel better."

Aizen's eyes trailed down to his hand. He gently took his wrist and drew the appendage up so he could inspect it. "And you hand?"

Grimmjow opened and closed his fingers to display the progress he'd made. It still hurt and felt stiff but it was miles ahead of where he'd been a couple weeks ago.

"I'm glad." Aizen's hand slid up, lightly holding his hand over the bandage that still covered ugly stitches. Then he let him go.

"Drink?" Grimmjow spat out nervously. Aizen nodded so he hurried over to the counter and pulled out the liquor he had to offer. Normally he would have chosen a beer but now he felt the need for something a little stronger. He poured pure vodka over several ice cubes. Aizen mixed something of his own. They drank in the quiet. Now Grimmjow did feel his nerves.

"What brought you to Tokyo, Grimmjow?"

He looked up at the question. Aizen hadn't asked him anything about his life since that first night.

"How do you know I'm not from Tokyo?"

"You have a regional accent. From the North, right?"

Grimmjow nodded but supplied no more detail. "Better money down here."

"For your chosen skill set."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I get the feeling this isn't a long term plan—I mean, your freelance business can't last too long. Eventually you'll burn too many bridges and there won't be any more business—or you'll end up dead."

"I needed cash when I got here. Now I just need one more thing and I can quit. Though honestly, I don't know what else I would do."

"What do you need?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does if it's the only thing you're risking your life for."

He set down his drink. "A new identity."

"Ah. I see." Identities were expensive—more than the money he had on him now. It also required the right connections. He knew Aizen could arrange it easily, but he wouldn't ask—not until he had real money to pay with, and not this game they were playing. Aizen seemed to understand this, because he let it go.

"Well how about you, then? Were you always set on being a mob boss?"

"It's not the mob, Grimmjow, it's simply an organization."

"Of criminals."

"Of men who seek freedom, much like you," he corrected smoothly. "And no, it was not always in my plans, but it did seem to happen rather…naturally." He finished his drink too and stared Grimmjow straight on. "As did something else."

Grimmjow stilled as Aizen leaned in. He slid around the edge of the counter that separated them and his hands slipped along Grimmjow's waist as he brought their mouths together.

It was slow, it was passionate. There was patience in each kiss and touch. Aizen's hands crept under his shirt, gliding over his skin and up his back. He felt a shiver, but not from the cold. Aizen pulled back and worked his shirt up and over his head. Aizen took a moment, his hands trailing back down Grimmjow's bared body. Grimmjow watched him back. Aizen wasn't looking at him with hunger like before, but appreciation.

Then he delved back in and now there was a little hint of urgency. His hand moved faster over bare flesh. His tongue devoured Grimmjow until he left his mouth for his chin, his throat.

"Sit down." He heard the whisper when his hips were gripped and he groaned when a tongue darted in his navel. He half fell back on the bar stood at the counter, his pants yanked down on the way. He gripped Aizen's shoulder for balance and felt breathless when those lips found his need.

"Ah, dammit." He couldn't believe how erect he'd become. He jerked at the first contact and his hand became a claw in Aizen's shoulder. He shook where he sat and swore again when Aizen took his tip in his mouth. His tongue darted over the slit. He jerked again and let out a needy groan. Worse, Aizen's finger nails lightly scraped the underneath of his sac. His head arched back. He just tried to breathe.

"M-more…" he whispered out desperately when Aizen continued just to tease and not give him satisfaction. Aizen withdrew and stood up again.

"Not yet." He bent in, again capturing his lips, but grabbing his hips and hoisting him up. Grimmjow wasn't light, but Aizen held him up with ease, leaning him back into the counter while he kissed him deep and rubbed their erections together. Grimmjow groaned again and Aizen took them away from the counter, over to the bed.

He sat backward, so that Grimmjow remained straddling him on top. Grimmjow broke apart for a second, then understood and drew his hands up to Aizen's collar undoing the buttons. It was painful, slow work because of the damage to his hand, but he succeeded in getting the shirt undone and pushing it down Aizen's shoulders. Then he ran his hands over muscled flesh. It was the first time he'd done this—he'd really felt Aizen instead of being felt by him. When had this become what he wanted? Had he given into Aizen, or had he just discovered something he'd never known about himself?

His hands worked their way back up to Aizen's chin, his face. He tried to seem firm, confident, but really he was just trying not to look like an idiot as he grasped Aizen's head and drew their mouths together, initiating the kiss.

Aizen's hands squeezed him tight around the back. Their hips were so close together they could feel one another's hardness. Grimmjow kissed harder as he rocked himself in Aizen's lap. He heard a groan. He smiled.

"Back," Aizen whispered, and Grimmjow moved with him, staying on top as they moved up the bed and Aizen lay back on the pillows. This was different. For the first time Grimmjow was looking down on Aizen. He could only steady himself with his left hand. Aizen shifted a pillow so he could rest his right forearm down. Then he felt the hands at his back grip his ass. He was toyed with for a moment before Aizen drew out a bottle from his pocket. He skillfully wet his fingers and then he entered.

He took his time. Grimmjow shuddered above him, feeling every movement inside of him. First with one, then two, then three fingers. Wriggling, thrusting, twisting and stretching. He bit his lip and bent his head to keep the discomfort from Aizen but the other leaned up and kissed his forehead. He was well aware that Grimmjow was still getting used to all of this. It was a long time before he removed his fingers. Grimmjow was getting tired of holding himself still, but he knew all of this would make the next bit easier. Then Aizen undid his pants and kicked them away. He met Grimmjow's eyes and nodded.

He was going to let Grimmjow do it. He felt the pressure and knew Aizen had lined them up but now it was up to him to sit back, force it in himself.

He shifted his arm and pushed back. He grit his teeth, feeling the head push in. He paused there for a moment. Aizen held his hips, guiding him. He took a breath and pushed back more. He groaned in pain but kept going. When he was half filled he stopped, stomach heaving for breath. Going slow wasn't helping. He needed it to be over with. He moved his hand up to Aizen's chest and shoved himself backward.

"AH!" He spasmed where he sat, now melded to Aizen's body. His muscles shuddered from the strain, his whole body was tense.

"Relax." Aizen sat, the movement making Grimmjow jolt again but his hands wrapped around him, he drew Grimmjow against his chest.

Grimmjow breathed in slowly, his forehead resting on Aizen's collar bone. One hand played through his hair, the other rubbed down his back.

"I'll wait. Try to let the tension go."

He did wait. Grimmjow tried. He tried to let his body accept the feeling, grow slack, but it wasn't working. Not until lips brush his temple, then his face was gently cupped and Aizen kissed him while he reached between them and lightly stroked Grimmjow's length.

"Ahh…" he breathed between kisses, his heart rate increasing, his need skyrocketing. Aizen too became more frantic. His kisses became harder, faster, hungrier. He stroked quicker but not enough to give satisfaction. His hand clenched over Grimmjow's hip, and he knew he needed him to move.

He rocked forward. They both groaned. He tried again, until it didn't hurt. Then he looped his right arm around Aizen's neck and braced his other against his thigh and pushed up.

It still hurt, but not like before. He was more relaxed. He had more control. He winced and hissed but kept going, until he found a position that made him scream out loud and curl his toes and shake.

"Good," Aizen whispered in his ear. His voice was thick, he wanted more, Grimmjow could tell but he wasn't taking it. Grimmjow pushed himself to keep going. Aizen helped, holding his hips, but it wasn't fast enough. He lay back, taking Grimmjow with him. At this angle he could thrust up as Grimmjow pushed back. With the increased force, Grimmjow saw stars. Aizen was hitting him dead on and it was driving him over the edge. He gasped and panted. He cursed and moaned. And when he came he collapsed against Aizen's chest in utter bliss, never having experienced satisfaction like this.

They lay together for a long time. He didn't want to move. He felt exhausted but at peace. Aizen's heart beat against his ear. His chest rose and fell beneath Grimmjow's cheek. His hands folded over his back and held him as he too recovered from his exertions.

"Do you know what you want now?" Aizen asked finally.

Grimmjow nodded into his flesh. "Yeah, I do."

"Good." Aizen demanded nothing more of him this night. He rolled and kept Grimmjow in his arms as they lay on their side. It took no time for Grimmjow to fall asleep.


End file.
